Harry Potter and the Endless Night
by The Sage of Toads
Summary: An infant Harry is adopted into the Hellsing Organization after Alucard went for an enthusiastic walk one fateful Halloween Night. Ten years later and now a Butler and Vampire Hunter for Hellsing, the matter of Harry's birthright still remains... A crossover with Hellsing Ultimate Abridged (Trigger Warnings: ALL OF THEM)
1. Prologue

Disclaimer: The following is a fan-written parody. Harry Potter is property of J.K Rowling and is published by Bloomsbury Publishing and Arthur A. Levine Books. Hellsing Ultimate is property of Kouta Hirano and Studio Madhouse, and licensed by Geneon, Madman Entertainment, Manga Entertainment, and Funimation. Hellsing Ultimate Abridged is the Crack-Addicted Ass-Baby of TeamFourStar. Please support the Official Release.

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><p>When the First Wizarding War began, the Ministry of Magic reassured their Muggle counterparts that there was nothing wrong. The band of Dark Wizards calling themselves the Death Eaters weren't a threat at all to Muggles, in fact they had the situation well at hand and under control.<p>

And then an army of giants rampaged through several towns, killing hundreds.

And then werewolves swarmed across the southern coast, resulting in dozens more killed.

And then the snakes… Oh God the less said about the snakes, the better.

And then the Death Eaters themselves, strolling into homes and murdering entire families in magical and creative ways.

The Ministry of Magic worked very hard to sweep all this under the rug. Windstorms, disease outbreaks, a spate of faulty gas lines explained away most of the deaths and they were quite successful in keeping the Muggle Ministry in the dark about how bad the war was. However, while you could pull the wool over the eyes of the Prime Minister… there was no fooling the Queen: something was not right in her Country.

Which brought us to this fine Halloween Night. The air was clear, the Moon was full, and the Dark Lord Voldemort was a man on a mission to kill the ever-living-fuck out of a year old baby boy. Thanks to a man on the inside of the forces that opposed him, finding the infant was no big deal. Even better, no one of his opposition had the faintest clue that he was coming.

Lifting his hand, Lord Voldemort pondered knocking on the door and then blasting the first person who opened it, but then he thought "I want the whole world to know what kind of twisted bastard I am", so he blew the door clean off its hinges.

As the door fell to the floor, on fire, the first future cadaver he saw was one of the biggest pains in the arse he'd known since the start of the war: James Potter. Three times he'd fought this cocky cock and each time he'd gotten away with a smug smile and V-sign held in the air. Seeing him bolt to his feet with an absolutely dumbfounded look on his face was easily the most satisfying thing Voldemort had experienced since he killed his Father.

Granting him three seconds to comprehend what was going on, he killed him on the spot with Avada Kedavra, and chuckled after he crumpled to the floor.

He looked up and caught a glimpse of Lily Potter's feet as she bolted up the stairs in a mad dash for–presumably–her spawn's room. With machine-like fluidity, he swept across the living room and up the stairs, easily banishing the wards and traps Lily had left in her wake before coming to cast his shadow over her and the crib she stood beside.

He lifted his wand and pointed it at her. "Stand aside, Lily Potter, it's not your life I seek."

In these tense final seconds of her life, she found it absolutely baffling that Voldemort would give her a chance to live. To her merit, she didn't give it a second thought.

"Never," she said.

Voldemort sighed in annoyance. "Well, Severus will be sad to hear that."

And there was that satisfying look of utter confusion again. "What about Severu-?"

In a flash of green light, Lily Potter hit the floor in a heap, dead.

That was that. The bodies of the parents Potter were now slowly cooling and voiding their bowels, leaving their precious child sitting in his crib, staring uncomprehending at his death as it loomed over him. As he looked down at the babe, Voldemort considered his options. He could turn the boy inside out, that would be quite horrific, he could set him on fire and just him–he could only imagine Dumbledore's nightmares after seeing the infant's smoldering skeleton–or even better… he could blow the little shit to smithereens.

Before Lord Voldemort could properly decide on a fitting death for the child, he noticed something crawling on the infant's shoulder. A centipede, a grotesquely large one at that. Another one skittered across his lap, before another one went up around his neck and then down his body. As Voldemort took a step back in confusion, he noticed that the centipedes were everywhere, crawling across the crib, the floor, and up the walls.

"Hey, I know you're busy but-"

Lord Voldemort whirled around to aim his wand at the voice, and found a tall youthful man wearing a red overcoat with an equally red fedora atop his head. The man then pointed down at the floor, at the body of Lily Potter.

"… Are you done with that or can I just help myself…?"

Lord Voldemort flicked the Killing Curse at the man, creating the third dead body to litter the floor of the Potter home. Who was this freshly made corpse and how did he know to follow him? What's more, why did he ask such a baffling question?

The night only got stranger, when Lily Potter's hand suddenly clutched at his leg. Lord voldemort looked down, as LIly's head rolled up and she looked up at him, blood pouring from her mouth and eyes, before speaking in the same voice as the newcomer. "You know, that was very rude."

Lily's grip suddenly became stronger than a giant's, and Voldemort could hear his bones cracking before he flung a curse at Lily's arm, destroying it. Thrown back by the force of the curse, Lily fell back against her son's crib… and began laughing as she rose up like a marionette on string.

"My, my… I've forgotten how much Wizardkind Magic stung!" Lily's possessor said even as her body began to break down and become absorbed into a black, amorphous flame covered with many glowing red eyes.

Lord Voldemort kept is wand aimed at the creature, his thoughts racing. What was this creature? Where had it come from? But most importantly… why didn't it die?!

Whipping his wand over his head, Lord Voldemort went Hard as A Motherfucker, unleashing a barrage of curses and hexes straight for the beast in front. The curses impacted with the mass, pushing it back against Harry's crib and driving the crib itself against a wall. The dark form seemed to absorb the spells and hexes, even as they popped out individual eyes and tore chunks of it away. Unimpeded completely by the damage, the monstrosity just laughed before a Thompson Submachine Gun clutched in a white gloved hand emerged and began spewing fire at him.

A Shield Charm blocked the bullets, and when the barrage stopped, Lord Voldemort whipped the weapon free from its owner's hand and smashed it to pieces against the wall.

The disarmed hand wiggled its fingers, before the eyes turned to the destroyed Thompson. They all then refocused on Voldemort in contempt. "You wrecked my gun."

The monster's form then began to coalesce before Lord Voldemort's eyes, shifting and reshaping until it became the man in the red coat, complete with fedora and orange-tinted sunglasses. He scowled at the Dark Lord. "I _liked_ that gun."

Lord Voldemort had used fear as a weapon for so long he'd forgotten what it was like to feel it. Now that he was remembering it? He was not a fan. "… What are you?"

"I'll tell you what I'm not." Alucard grinned broadly. "Something you can kill."

Voldemort realized that he had to get out of this house and kill the brat before this… this _thing_ decided to test the extent of his power. Whipping the wand around his his head again, he pointed the wand at the creature. "AVADA KEDAVRA!"

Like a Death Ray from Science Fiction, the spell barreled into the man in red and pierced right through him.

And then a split second later, the Potter Cottage in Godric's Hollow exploded, showering the neighboring homes in wood and mortar.

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><p>Ten minutes later, several British Army Armored Personnel Carriers barreled into Godric's Hollow, joined by several helicopters, all bearing the red and black Coat of Arms of the Hellsing Organization. The racket sent the primarily Wizardkind population already startled by the explosion into a confused terror, and many took to hiding. There was something frighteningly abnormal about these Muggles and their vehicles, they were not fooled or turned back by the wards that protected the town.<p>

With a landing zone cleared, one of the helicopters of the organization touched down, and bursting forth from it came the furious leader of the Hellsing Organization: Arthur Hellsing.

"YOU BLOOD-SOAKED, HERPES-INFESTED TWAT!" he roared over the rotors as he marched from the helicopter to the blown out ruin, where Alucard was snacking on the remains of James Potter.

Alucard looked up from his after battle meal. "I'm not your wife, Arthur!" he shot back before Arthur punched him in his whorish mouth.

After Alucard smashed into and knocked over a barely standing wall, the Undead King lifted a finger to the air. "Seriously dude, not your wife."

"Alucard answer me this: What did I tell you to do?"

Alucard sat up. "Watch the house in the event Death Eaters arrived to follow through with their silly prophecy."

Arthur nodded. "And what did you do?"

"Watch the house in the event Death Eaters arrived to follow through with their silly prophecy."

Arthur pulled out a revolver from his fashionable red suit and shot Alucard with it, dropping him on his back with a thud. "You were also, explicitly ordered to immediately intervene if a Death Eater came within sight of the house."

Alucard was up again. "Yeah, about that? I was waiting for like _three hours_ before anyone showed up. I got bored, I called up a hooker, she was delicious."

"And while you were having a snack, the king of Death Eaters himself comes along and blows the whole family to smithereens!"

Alucard took offense to that. "Arthur, I am appalled!"

Arthur stared at him.

"Hookers are not food."

Arthur prepared to shoot him again.

"Also, whole family? Yeah right, he only went two for three." One of Alucard's hellhound familiars materialized from the shadow created by his coat. It then opened its mouth–revealing a sleeping Harry James Potter, perfectly unharmed except for a lightning-shaped scar where Lord Voldemort's spell had struck after going through Alucard.

Arthur looked in surprise at the sleeping baby, and then back to Alucard. "What happened to Voldemort, then?"

"Fuck if I know, but given the explosion and the fact that bits and pieces of him are lying all over the place? I'd say that he's pretty fuckin' dead." To emphasize, Alucard held up Voldemort's mostly ruined, already rotting head and began using it as a puppet.

"Know what I could go for right now?" he asked out the corner of one of his many mouths while manipulating the torn and bloodied jaw of Voldemort's head. "Some me!"

Seeing the Potter boy alive and well and quite convinced that Alucard had cleaned up, Arthur left Alucard to amuse himself with desecrating remains and hummed in approval as an opportunity like no other presented itself. He walked over and picked Harry up from the jaws of the hellhound, before holding him up high.

"You can sleep through anything, can't you lad? Much like my little one," he said with a growing smile.

Cradling the sleeping child close, he turned and headed back to the helicopter. "Alucard!"

Alucard looked up from making the remains of Voldemort's head kiss the remains of his arse. "Yeah, chief?"

"Go on for a walk tonight. I've got to convince Walter to adopt this kid."

"Man, I hope Integra's half as fun as you are when she takes over the family business!"

As the helicopter lifted into the night, the Wizarding World's greatest mystery began. On that fateful Halloween night, Lord Voldemort entered the home of Lily and James Potter with intent to kill little Harry, and when the first Auror arrived on the scene hours later, they found a burnt ruin in the place of the Potter Cottage and hysterical accounts from Wizards of Muggles that could see through the illusions that hid them.

Lord Voldemort was gone, blown to bits.

But what had become of the Potters?

And who was "The Crimson Fucker", whose name was spelled in blood before the remains of the Dark Lord?

**Harry Potter and the Endless Night  
>Prologue<strong>

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><p>AN: Insert the first verse of Andrew W.K.'s "Party Party Party" here.


	2. Harry James Dornez

Harry: The following is a fan-written parody. Harry Potter is property of J.K Rowling and is published by Bloomsbury Publishing and Arthur A. Levine Books. Hellsing Ultimate is property of Kouta Hirano and Studio Madhouse, and licensed by Geneon, Madman Entertainment, Manga Entertainment, and Funimation. Hellsing Ultimate Abridged is the collaborative effort of TeamFourStar. Please support the Official Release.

Harry: *Fidgets* … D-did I get that right?

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><p>"And that's my plan," Arthur said to his trusted Butler and top vampire Hunter, Walter C. Dornez, in the office of Hellsing Manor a little later that evening.<p>

Walter, who had become as splendid a Butler as he had been a professional killer and vampire hunter, met Arthur's plan with skepticism. "I have some reservations."

"And what would those be, Walter?"

"You want me to raise this child," he indicated the softly slumbering Harry Potter cradled in his arms.

"Yes," Arthur said.

"To be my eventual heir and replacement."

"Yes."

"To one day take my place as the Hellsing Family butler, protector, and general go to man in times of crisis."

"Correct."

"And to be an upstanding Englishman and servant to Crown, Church, and Country."

"Bloody Christ, Walter, yes. What's your point?" Arthur demanded.

"You want this boy to be all of those, without him falling under the influence of-"

And then Alucard materialized through a wall. "Hey, Artie! Did you know it's possible to shove a human body up a cow's ass?"

Arthur and Walter as one, stared at Alucard, and then looked to one another. In Walter's arms, Harry let out a sleepy yawn.

Not hearing a no, Alucard continued. "Well, the trick is to-"

A bound and sealed Alucard smashed into the wall at the bottom of the deepest crypt of the Hellsing Manor. At the top of the stairs, Arthur and Walter stood.

"And you'll stay down there until we need you!" the former declared before slamming the door shut.

**Harry Potter and the Endless Night  
>Chapter 1: Harry James Dornez<strong>

_Ten Years Later…_

Doug Livesay, 36 years old, was a man who often complained of the excesses and abuses the powerful freely and flagrantly performed against their fellow man. Proudly, he boasted, if he were in the same position as those of his financial and political betters, he would be a paragon of virtue and dedicate his life to cleaning up his community and improving the lives of those whose lives needed it.

So of course when vampirism granted him the strength of body and swiftness of mind to make the world a better place, he immediately set out raping and murdering women in the middle of the night. Like tonight, as he single-mindedly stalked a fleeing woman through a heavily wooded park.

With his heightened senses, tracking her was no problem. He could see in the dark better than any cat or owl, he could smell her keener than any dog, could hear her footsteps, gasps, and even her racing heartbeat from a hundred yards back. He was in the absolute thrill of the moment, so singly focused on the fleeing woman in white, that it was no surprise that he was blindsided by a thrown knife that embedded in his knee and burned like the motherfucking surface of the sun had been pressed into his skin.

"The bloody fuck is this?!" he shouted in anger.

Stumbling forward, the freshly made vampire howled in pain and grabbed at the straight-bladed throwing knife, before ripping it out and screaming when the metal burned his hands. He stared down at the blade, silver, about twenty centimeters in length, and the words "Hellsing ARMS" written in fancy cursive along the blade.

"Hellsing?" He asked.

"Terribly sorry for that, I missed," a very young boy said.

Mr. Livesay quickly scanned the dark park, and then focused on the moonlight gleaming off a pair of wide-rimmed glasses. They belonged to what was certainly a child maybe no older than ten dressed as a butler: black shoes, black trousers, a white shirt with a black vest and black tie.

"I was aiming for your balls."

"Who the fuck do you think you are, talking like that to me?!" Livesay demanded, falling into the trap that those in power tend to: that anyone who went against him had no idea who he was up against.

The boy did not hesitate to introduce himself. "My name is Harry J. Dornez, Vampire Hunter and Butler for the Hellsing Estate. This evening, my Master has asked me to clean up the garbage in this park."

Mr. Livesay bared his fangs and laughed. "You cheeky shit, just for that I'm going to bugger you til you shit out your intestines!"

Harry made a face at that, and pulled out a pair of black leather driving gloves. "Disgusting. It's a good thing I brought my gloves."

He'd just finished pulling the second glove tightly on, when Livesay closed the thirty meters between himself and the boy, arm outstretched to strike him down. Looking up at him, Harry's green eyes narrowed as he held up his right hand, and with a sleight of hand movement produced and flicked another knife into the vampire's left eye.

Livesay stopped and staggered back, howling in pain, as Harry wiggled his fingers before fanning out a dozen more knives, six in each hand. With dramatic flourish, he tossed the knives away from him to his sides, before folding his arms and willing the blades to suddenly fly off and jam themselves deeply into the vampire's neck, chest, stomach, and legs.

"WHY DOES IT HURT?!" Pepper spray didn't hurt, knives didn't hurt, hell not even bullets hurt! What made these knives _burnl?!_

"There's no use telling you." With his remaining eye, Livesay looked at the boy who brought him low, who was twirling a final knife around his thumb much as a bored child would a pencil.

The boy grinned. "Because you won't live to appreciate it."

Livesay's good eye widened in horror as he froze at the sheer menace the boy radiated, as all good prey should.

"Accio," Harry said, and the knife he'd first thrown into the vampire's knee rocketed from its resting place and lanced through the beast's heart on its way to Harry's free hand.

With a quick flick of his wrist, the knife Harry twirled vanished, before he took his last knife and pushed it into the palm of his hand, the blade disappearing into the glove. He then turned and looked towards the trees. "The target's been destroyed and made quite the mess… but it's still tidier than when I arrived."

The person he spoke to, the woman in white that the late Mr. Livesay had been pursuing, emerged from the forest. She was a gorgeous woman despite appearing in her early forties. She had sharp gray eyes and long, voluminous black hair kept out of her eyes with a red headband that circled her crown, and noticeably full lips.

Carlotta Pinkstone pushed strands of her tousled black hair from her face before smiling to Harry. "Well done, Harry! Your grandfather will be so proud of you."

Harry returned the smile as he removed his gloves and pocketed them. Tonight had been his tenth vampire hunt and his seventeenth kill. "Thank you, Ms. Pinkstone."

The two then jumped when they heard the audible pops of the Apparition spell. Hearing the sounds, Carlotta smiled nervously and led the boy off. "They're getting quicker and quicker…!"

She led Harry into the trees and hid behind one, pulling the boy close to her as her dress changed from white to a much harder to see black and gray. Not a second later, four Aurors converged on the spot they'd been standing.

Peeking behind the tree, both she and Harry spied that the leader of this particular group of Aurors was Alastor "Mad Eye" Moody himself, the grizzled Auror's Mad-Eye darting around before focusing on the corpse of the vampire. "Bloody hell, another vampire."

"Poor bastard," one of the lesser and unrecognized Aurors said.

A woman Auror in the group covered her mouth. "Who would do this to the poor thing?"

"A bloody-fucking nutjob," a third Auror not Moody lamented.

Harry resisted the urge to retch and laugh at the same time, as Ms. Pinkstone rolled her eyes.

Moody looked to his three Aurors. Being a man who despised the bloodsuckers personally, he found their sympathy for it disdainful. "Focus on the task at hand. They couldn't have gotten far."

Even as Moody said this, his Mad-Eye suddenly focused on the tree the two operatives of the Hellsing Organization were hidden behind. His less mad, more disappointed eye narrowed at this.

"Armando, Buford, on my mark apparate to take the flank and fire stunners," he said to the two male Aurors. "Tonks, keep position here and bag 'em if they come your way."

The two older male and lone young female Auror nodded and readied their wands. Behind the tree, Carlotta looked down at Harry and winked.

Moody nodded, and prepared her wand. "3… 2… 1… mark!"

Three of the four wizards Apparated, quickly appearing in the prescribed positions, and let fly stunner spells that hit Tonks, who had been suddenly switched with their intended targets.

"Damn it Tonks, you had one job!" Moody yelled. He then looked above her head and narrowed his narrowable eye when he saw the Hellsing Coat of Arms plastered to the tree.

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><p>Harry James Dornez is ten years old, and as described above, he is the latest and youngest badass little butler to grace the Hellsing Estate. Since he could first walk, his grandfather Walter has trained him in combat, in the occult, and in butlery, honing him into the sort of man mentally unhinged billionaires would be able to rely upon.<p>

"Good morning, Harry, did your mission go well?"

Harry stood a little straighter and mentally hoped his appearance was in proper order when he was graciously greeted by the person he'd been literally raised to serve, the quiet yet pretty daughter of Sir Hellsing, Integra. The twelve year old heiress to the Hellsing family and the one person Harry liked most of all in the household short of his Grandfather greeted him as she left her bedroom, presentably dressed for the day.

"Oh, it was just another trash vampire. I'm getting better at my one-liners though, I think. When he asked why my knives burned I said 'There's no point in explaining it to you, you won't live to appreciate it' right before I put my knife through him," he explained as the two began down the hallway of the lavish estate.

Integra hummed. "Oh, that's a good one. Mind if I borrow it?"

"If you would quote me beforehand."

Integra nodded. "I'll be sure to." She furrowed her brows. "I wonder where these freak vampires are coming from."

"Grandpa thinks it might be the Nazis," Harry offered.

Integra briefly rolled her eyes upward. "That's rubbish. Clearly this is the work of Africans."

Harry gave Integra a disbelieving look. "Africans, Miss?"

Integra nodded resolutely. "Africans."

For a moment, Harry feared that Integra might have picked up her father's opinions of the blacks.

In two years, he'd be in awe of her prescience.

In ten years, he'd be _laughing his fucking arse off._

Speaking of her father, Integra and Harry arrived at the door of Sir Hellsing's bedroom. Reaching up, Integra knocked and shortly afterward the head butler of the Hellsing estate and Harry's grandfather Walter C. Dornez opened the door.

"Good Morning, Miss Integra, Harry," the thin, black-haired and monocle'd textbook definition of classy greeted the two children.

"Good morning, Walter, how is my Father holding up?" Integra asked.

"Oh, better than a man in his condition ought to be."

Walter looked over to the bed, where the bedridden and dying Master of House Hellsing lay comfortably. At his bedside, Ms. Pinkstone–dressed as a Victorian-era Maid–was measuring a dosage of morphine for him. Cracking one eye open, he looked at the mature witch.

"Carlotta…" he said weakly.

"Yes, Sir Hellsing?" She asked.

"I don't… I don't need the morphine… just… just…"

Ms. Pinkstone looked from the needle to her Master. "Yes?"

"Just show me your breasts, so I can die a happy man."

Ms. Pinkstone jammed the morphine needle deep into his thigh. Prompting a scream of agony from Arthur that lasted up until the witch pushed down the plunger of the needle ten seconds later, sending the sweet release of painkillers into his system.

The glasses worn by Integra and Harry, and Walter's monocle, turned opaque as they contemptuously watched Sir Hellsing slowly go from bed-ridden agony to functionally human.

"He could stand to have a little more dignity," Integra said sharply.

"Quite," Walter and Harry agreed in unison as they adjusted their respective spectacles.

Sir Hellsing immediately perked up at the voices. The gaunt, bearded man, his redddish brown hair having turned a stark white years ago, beamed sunnily to his daughter and her servant. "Integra! Harry! Come on over kids! Let me get a good look at you before Carlotta stuffs me into a K-Hole." When the two joined his bedside, he smiled to Integra. "How's your training going, dear?"

"My fencing instructor says I'm competent enough to win Gold in the Olympics. I would very much like to participate."

"Where are they holding them next?"

"Sydney."

"Absolutely not."

Integra huffed. "Why not?"

"Because fuck Australia, that's why not!"

Integra puffed her cheeks and glared at her father, who then patted her on the head. "Besides, dear, your skills are not meant to be wasted in sport–they are to be applied directly to the enemies of God with extreme prejudice, and that is more satisfying than any gold affirmation."

He looked to Harry. "Speaking of, I heard you had your tenth successful mission, Harry!"

Harry quickly stood at attention. "Y-yes Sir Arthur!"

"Well done, m'boy! You're already a spitting image of your Grandfather. As a reward, I want to give you a very special mission. Walter here just relayed it to me." Arthur nodded to Walter, who held up a manilla folder with Top Secret stamped on the front.

Harry took the folder and opened it, Integra leaning in to look as well. Inside were pictures of a merchant ship. "What's this?"

"This ship left the Rio de Janeiro five weeks ago and disappeared into the North Atlantic. Yesterday evening, right after you and Ms. Pinkstone left on your mission, it appeared just off the coast of Scotland. When the Coast Guard sent a crew to investigate, the crew did not return and the ship vanished shortly thereafter."

"What happened?" Harry asked.

"According to the radio contact, the coast guard crew encountered possible ghouls and were torn limb from limb."

"How awful…" Harry murmured.

"Not really, they were just Scots." Arthur coughed briefly upon receiving a glare from Integra. "At any rate, The Hellsing Organization will be investigating the matter, and as both a reward for your tenth mission and a birthday gift, I've decided that this will be your first solo mission."

Harry gasped and smiled. "Really, sir?!"

Integra soured at this. "Are you actually making this decision, or is this the morphine talking?"

"If it were the morphine talking I wouldn't need the bloody Ketamine," Arthur replied. "So what do you say Harry? Are you game?"

Harry's eyes were sparkling at the prospect of being trusted such a dangerous and important task. "Yes! I'll do it! I'll do it!"

Arthur laughed. "That's the spirit! Always remember your duty to the Anglican Church, Her Majesty, and to your country!"

"Father! I refuse to allow for this-!" Integra protested.

"Nope, we're doing this. Carlotta, my Ketamine please."

"At once, Sir Arthur," Ms. Pinkstone said before sending her employer and Master off into a drug-induced stupor. Almost immediately, the head of the Hellsing House was in a wonderful world beyond sober comprehension.

Integra shot an impotent glare at the witch, who only gave her a weak smile. "He's much better like this."

"And you needn't worry about Harry," Walter added, earning her gaze. "He is more than capable for the task. He would not be a member of Hellsing if he were not."

Integra looked at Harry, who stood straight and proud, ready to throw his very life away for his country if need be. Identifying that zealotry, Integra pouted and pointed directly between Harry's eyes. "As the future heir to the Hellsing Organization, you have one single order from me Harry J. Dornez that you must follow at all costs above all others!"

"Yes Miss Integra?" Harry asked.

"You are not to die without my express permission, do you understand?"

Harry smiled big. "Of course, Miss Integra!"

Integra nodded resolutely. "Good, now go prepare for your mission."

* * *

><p>The MV _Zeppeli_ had departed from Rio de Janeiro Brazil for the port of Houston with a very sensitive cargo. As previously mentioned, however, midway through its trip, it lost contact and vanished up until its appearance off the Scottish Coast and most recently deadly close to the Emerald Isle. The 100 meter long transport ship was already badly degraded from over a month adrift. Rails bent and torn from the rough seas, life-rafts missing, and almost all the lights out.

This is what Harry parachuted onto a little after dark, when the ship finally revealed itself again, with only the lights of the distant Irish coast and the full moon overhead illuminating it. Unhooking his parachute and stripping out of his jump suit, Harry adjusted the tie of his Butler uniform and smirked.

"Well, let's tidy up," he smartly announced before taking one step and stepping on the recently blasted human head, inadvertently crushing it underfoot.

He looked down, and sure enough found the rotting remains of a ghoul smushed around his dress shoe. "Bloody hell, I didn't mean literally."

The deck was awash with dead ghouls. Judging by their attire, they were the crew of the ship, plus the Coast Guard crew that boarded the ship. What was troubling him, though, was that this bunch seemed to have been killed by high-powered gunfire.

"I came underdressed," Harry lamented before he heard gunfire from below deck. "Nothing that can be done about it now."

The repeated reports passed below him, and Harry followed them up to the wheelhouse of the boat, before a door leading below decks there burst opened and a blonde young man dressed in a long gray coat and black sunglasses burst out backwards, firing a pair of SIG Sauer GSR pistols into the the doorway.

"JUST DIE YOU BLOOD-DRINKING, PISS-FOR-BRAINS HEATHEN HERETIC WHORE!" the dual-wielder yelled as he kept firing into the doorway, before he pulled a grenade from inside his coat and whipped it inside. Turning around, he dove for cover behind the ship's large cargo hatch as the grenade exploded.

Panting, the dual-wielder rested his head against the side of the container and crossed himself. "Father in Heaven, give me the strength to overcome this…"

"A sorry time to ask I know, but why do you do that?"

The dual-wielder jumped and turned to point his pistols at Harry's face. Seeing a little boy out to sea on a ghoul-infested ship confused him just long enough to prevent him from immediately splattering the boy's brains out all over the deck.

"That dual-wielding thing. Do you do it because it was cool in Tomb Raider, or what? And… and… " Harry stopped and sniffed the air before making a face. "… What is that smell and why am I reminded of John Lennon?"

The dual-wielder lowered his guns. "Who the fuck are you?"

Harry gasped, forgetting his manners. "Oh, I'm Harry and I'm a vampire hunter. You are?"

"Heinkel, and I don't need help. I've got this well under control." Heinkel, as he called himself, briefly peeked over the hatch towards the doorway but kept both pistols trained on Harry.

Harry examined the young man and noticed right away the priest's uniform and shiny little cross that dangled around his neck. His grandfather warned him of the odd chance of encountering these types wherever there were vampires or other nasties causing a mess in or around Ireland, but what were the odds that his first solo run would pit him against Section XIII of the Vatican?

"I didn't come here to help, I was sent to clean up the mess here. I'm a Hellsing butler, after all," Harry explained after eying the guns the young man still had trained on him.

"Hellsing?!" Heinkel focused all of his attention on Harry, standing and pointing one gun at his face and one at his heart. "Repent, Protestant swine!"

Harry looked from one gun to the other, and then back to Heinkel's face. "I'm not eleven yet, but I still know when a gun's empty." He indicated the locked back position of the slides, exposing the barrels. "The slides are locked back."

Heinkel's face screwed up in frustration when his bluff got called.

"That's why I was curious about the dual-wielding thing, how do you reload if you get surprised like this?" Harry said as he produced a knife from his glove.

Heinkel answered that by dropping both pistols and in one smooth motion drawing another pair of pistols from inside his coat. Before he could bring the guns to bear on the other boy, Harry quickly threw his knife at Heinkel's face, prompting him to lean back under the blade and offering Harry the quick opportunity to leap back from the Catholic Paladin.

Back upright, Heinkel aimed at Harry as he swept his hand in front of him, leaving a trail of knives that deflected Heinkel's gunfire. The knives then pointed at Heinkel and propelled straight for him, only to be deflected by more gunfire.

As the last knife was deflected, Heinkel saw the kid was gone. Quickly he looked up, and saw a pair of thrown knives come at him from above. He dove and rolled forward, turning around and using his guns to parry slashes from Harry as he landed behind him.

"Fucking Protestant biter!" Heinkel roared as he deflected several more strikes and tried to shoot Harry in the face. He missed as Harry ducked and kicked him in the stomach, knocking him back.

"Biter?!" Harry asked as he threw the two knives at Heinkel.

Heinkel deflected both knives with guns and opened fire again. "You ripped off Father Anderson's style you little shit!"

Harry dashed away, staying outside the trajectory of the shots before throwing two more knives at him, knocking the guns from his hands.

"I have no idea who that is!" Harry declared indignantly as he produced a dozen more knives and threw them up into the air above Heinkel's head. With a dramatic point downward, he directed the knives to suddenly launch themselves down at Heinkel from different directions.

As the knives came down, Heinkel swung off his long coat and used it to scatter the knives. Throwing the coat away Heinkel leaped back while pitching two grenades at Harry.

Harry acted instinctively, producing a pair of knives and throwing both as the grenades reached him, the impact of the blades knocking both explosives back as he jumped back over the railing of the ship. He just made it over the railing when both grenades exploded, the shrapnel and shock wave passing above him.

Falling towards the water, he threw another knife with a length of garrote wire wrapped around it and managed to loop it around the railing, stopping himself before he touched the cold, calm waters below.

Feet planted against the side of the ship he took a deep breath. "Bloody hell, with how Sir Arthur and Grandpa went on about these priests, I thought they'd be pushovers."

And then there was Heinkel, standing on the railing and aiming his pistols down at him with the biggest shit-eating grin on his face.

"Oh bollocks."

Harry broke into a run across and then up the hull of the ship, as Heinkel fired after him. Jumping onto the railing, he jumped again as Heinkel mercifully ran out of ammo. Three more knives drawn, he threw them at the paladin, who performed a snap kick to deflect all three. He then threw both his pistols at another pair of knives thrown after the first trio, deflecting both, before reaching behind his back and pulling out two more pistols from the back of his pants.

"How many guns do you have?!" Harry yelled as he slid for cover behind the merchant boat's main cargo hatch to avoid the subsequent hail of bullets..

"You ask me after pulling how many knives out of your ass?!" Heinkel snapped back.

Harry considered moving from his position, but he was out of breath. Luckily it sounded like Heinkel was out of breath too. Unluckily, it was giving him as much time to think up a plan out of the stalemate too.

He then heard the sound of something land atop the hatch and roll towards him. He rolled over and scrambled as fast as he could from the grenade Heinkel rolled over the top of the doors.

As he got up into a sprint, his eyes widened when he saw a second grenade sailing in a graceful arc towards him. Behind it, Heinkel was kissing his cross and tipping it towards him. "Bollocks."

Both grenades exploded, and Harry was caught up in their blast.

Letting go of his cross, Heinkel snorted in satisfaction. "Protest that, heathen."

He heard a pop directly above him, and two thrown knives disarmed him _again._ Looking up in disbelief, Heinkel quickly leaned back as Harry fell from above, swinging one more knife straight down–aiming to slice into his head.

Harry landed in front of Heinkel in a crouch, amazed that he had managed to somehow perform apparition at that last possible half-second. He looked up at Heinkel, who stared at him in similar disbelief that the kid had somehow survived two point-blank grenades.

Then Heinkel's shirt, neatly cut down the middle, fell open.

A second after that, _her_ exposed pink lace bra popped open as well.

An emergency snub-nosed revolver normally held in place by said bra dropped to the deck with a clatter.

"… Huh. I did not expect that," a dumbly staring Harry said.

Her face entirely red, Heinkel kicked Harry in the chin, throwing him onto his back. Luckily, the blow hadn't knocked him unconscious, and he kicked up onto his feet with another pair of knives ready to go as Heinkel trained another pair of pistols on him.

An uneasy stillness fell between the two as they gripped their weapons, plotting and planning their next seven moves and the countless contingencies that went with each one. Tension grew tighter, Hellsing Butler and Iscariot Paladin trembling in fervent anticipation.

Then a flash of light struck Harry, and he dropped his blades before his arms and legs locked together and he fell forward with a cry. Heinkel quickly followed the flash of light, and stopped when she found Alastor Moody and three Aurors aiming their wands at her. "Fucking Wizards!"

A barrage of stunners struck Heinkel then, causing her to drop her guns and pushing her further and further back with each consecutive blow before she finally collapsed, unconscious.

Only able to move his eyes, Harry looked from the now unconscious paladin to the intervening wizards, one of them still keeping a wand on her. This wizard looked to Moody and that Tonks Auror as they went to Harry. "I think this is a Muggle Witch Hunter, should I use an Unforgivable?"

"They have cause enough to come after us, do you want to get them in a real uproar?" Moody snapped back.

Moody's mad eye suddenly darted to Harry, and Moody himself shoved Tonks aside as Harry managed to break the full body bind and whip two knives at them. The knife aimed for Tonks missed, while Moody himself snatched the knife aimed for him out of the air and hit Harry with a stunner that threw him backward.

Staggering backward, Harry shook his head as he already felt the world spin. Another trio of stunners hit him, and much like Heinkel, he fell to his knees and then onto his face. Consciousness fading, he looked up at Moody and Tonks, the latter leaning down and caressing his cheek.

"This is really him?" she asked. "This is Harry Potter?"

"Aye," Moody said as he joined her side. "The boy lived."

As darkness overcame him, Harry had a single thought:

Who the bloody hell was Harry Potter?

* * *

><p>AN: This is the buildup. The buildup is always important.


	3. Hospitality

Heinkel: The following is a fan-written parody. Harry Potter is property of J.K Rowling and is published by Bloomsbury Publishing and Arthur A. Levine Books. Hellsing Ultimate is property of Kouta Hirano and Studio Madhouse, and licensed by Geneon, Madman Entertainment, Manga Entertainment, and Funimation. Hellsing Ultimate Abridged is the collaborative effort of TeamFourStar. Please support the Official Release.

Heinkel: Non-canon because Hirano didn't want to redraw Maxwell! What a load of bullsh-

* * *

><p>As her personal butler, Harry was responsible for preparing and serving all of Integra's meals, and in the two years he'd been doing it he'd become wonderfully skilled at it. Especially in preparing breakfast for her, as it was was the most important meal of the day. He, and only he, would personally bring the tray to her bedroom and leave it at her bedside to allow the aroma of freshly cooked food to rouse her from her slumber.<p>

When he began going on missions, the thing that Integra began to fear most, would be waking up and not finding breakfast waiting for her. Though every morning after, there it was, hot and ready for her. So when Harry went off on his first solo mission, she reassured hersef that come the morning breakfast would be waiting, just like every other morning to date.

Sure enough, when she opened her eyes, it was to the room-filling aroma of a freshly prepared breakfast sitting covered on the table at her bedside.

Inhaling deep, Integra let out a relieved sigh and sat up in her bed to pull the tray onto her lap. Of course Harry would come back, he wasn't allowed to die after all. She expressly forbade it.

"Ooh, scrambled eggs," she said happily as she removed the tray's lid and picked up a fork. Digging into the eggs, she brought them to her mouth and took a bite.

Ten seconds later, Integra smashed open her father's bedroom door, finding Walter and Carlotta gathered with several Hellsing officers, her Uncle Richard, and one of the organization's financial backers, Sir Shelby Penwood, who all recoiled from the fury in the normally timid girl's eyes.

"WHERE IN THE HELL IS MY BUTLER?!"

**Harry Potter and the Endless Night  
>Chapter 2: Hospitality<strong>

Where indeed…

After having been hit with a fair amount of stunners, Harry awoke in St. Mungo's Hospital for Magical Maladies and Injuries. He was lying in a hospital bed, and secured into it by several heavy straps over his chest, waist, and and thighs. That was the bad news–the good news was that he was still in his clothes, and his captors hadn't removed his gloves.

He opened his eyes and looked around, he was in a white, pristine hospital room. On the wall to his right there was a picture with a soothing picture of the sea rolling in onto a beach at sunset, True to the nature of the Wizarding World, the waves were actually moving in. Similar pictures, one of a snowy mountain, was on the wall in front of him, and one of a grassy field, was behind him. Sitting underneath the beach picture and just to his right from the door was Auror Tonks, whose head was bowed.

Harry could hear snoring from her.

He looked to his left out the window, and quickly recognized the London skyline. Well, at least Miss Integra wouldn't have to go too far to find him. Given that it was already morning and the sun was coming up, she was probably on her way now.

Looking down at his hands, he wiggled his fingers before summoning one of his thin, straight-bladed knives between the index and middle. Before he could begin carving himself free, Tonks suddenly snapped awake.

"Huh? I'm just resting my eyes!" she yelped, before noticing Harry's eyes were open. "Oh! You're up."

"Where am I?" Harry immediately asked.

Tonks smiled at him. "St. Mungo's Hospital for Magical Maladies and Injuries, in London."

"Why am I here?" His gaze narrowed into a glare.

Taken aback by said glare, Tonks' smile disappeared. "Oh! Well, you took a few stunners-"

"About that, why did I take a few stunners?" He was getting increasingly agitated with each question.

And Tonks more timid with each answer. "Because you broke out of the full body bind-"

"Why did you use that on me?!" The full weight of his ire seemed to come straight from his eyes, searing into hers.

"Well, we intended to capture you without injury but-" she babbled in a fright

Harry leaped out of the bed and got in her face. "WHY WERE YOU TRYING TO CAPTURE ME?!"

Tonks, her hair and face turning white, backed from him, speaking very quickly. "B-because when we realized you were Harry Potter we were ordered by the Ministry of Magic to rescue you from the Muggles and reunite you with your actual family so you could attend school at Hogwarts and hopefully grow up to become a fine young wizard I'm so sorry I was only following orders please don't hit!"

Harry stood back and straightened out his vest before adjusting his tie. "Quite, very good Miss Tonks that will be all." He nodded to her. "Good day."

Terrified, Tonks quickly nodded. "O-of course!"

This was the most surreal nightmare she'd ever had. Maybe if she went back to sleep it'd stop. Closing her eyes, she did just that as Harry found his shoes and prepared to depart his room.

Around the corner on the very same floor of St. Mungo's (the fourth floor, to be precise), Auror Armando, a smarmy Latino wizard with a sick jet black pompadour and even sicker sideburns, and Auror Buford, muscularly built Auror with similarly black hair that reached down to his manly hips and a face like it was sculpted in stone, approached where Harry lay.

"I'm certain of it, The Crimson Fucker has to be Dumbledore," Buford insisted. "It was 1990, he was leader of the Order, he wore red, he even had a phoenix."

"No, no, no, no, no… it cannot be Dumbledore, because Dumbledore was called Sorcerer Supreme."

"You can have multiple aliases. Also, I think you have that backwards," Armando said as they rounded the corner just as Harry stepped out of his room and into the the white, sterile hallway of the hospital. He looked to Harry with Buford. "Hm?"

Noting them, Harry brought both hands up to adjust his glasses. "Oh don't mind me, gentlemen. I was just checking out."

By the time both Aurors had their wands out, Harry's first salvo knives were lacerating their hands, disarming them. The next salvo of knives splattered their blood all over the walls and floor as each of Harry's narrow blades connected with their shoulders, elbows, knees and groin.

'It's a good thing we're in a hospital," Harry said as he walked past the two men who lay in blinding pain, careful to avoid the blood to not leave a trail. Reaching the intersection the two Aurors came around, he peeked around for any sign of Aurors and upon finding none turned left and jogged towards what he hoped were the stairs.

* * *

><p>Downstairs and not quite yet aware of Harry's violent escape, Alastor Moody did his best to resist blowing his own head off with a blasting charm as he waited for Minister of Magic Cornelius Fudge to arrive. The reason he resisted was the massive and wholly unnecessary media presence that occupied the ground floor of the hospital.<p>

This all had started when Harry Potter had been discovered alive. Armed with this startling revelation, Minister of Magic Cornelius Fudge summoned not only the Unspeakables, but pulled Moody out of retirement to lead the actual efforts of recovering the boy from the mysterious muggle organization he was in custody of.

Good! This was a delicate mission and it required a lot of finesse and secrecy, more than any normal wizard could offer. For reasons even Moody himself was not allowed to know particular details about it–keeping this operation hush-hush was imperative, for the sake of keeping Wizard and Muggle relations peaceful. The surly old wizard was fine with that.

That said, immediately setting up a news conference to announce Harry's living status and his retrieval from said muggles only hours after the boy had been rescued in poor taste at best–the stupidly arrogant at worst. And Moody always saw things in the worst possible light on principle.

"Alastor Moody you salty dog! Why did I not make you Head of Law Enforcement?!" And here was Minister Fudge taking Moody's hand and shaking it vigorously.

"I'm not a fan of politics, or politicians," Moody groused back as he went along with the handshake. The gaze of his mad eye darted past Fudge, and Moody grimaced when he spied a crowd of witches and wizards outside the hospital, cheering enthusiastically and waving signs welcoming home the boy.

Still shaking his hand as representatives of the Daily Prophet and other news sources began taking pictures, Fudge laughed. "I haven't met a wizard or witch alive who is."

"Right," Moody said before getting to brass tacks. "Cornelius, this isn't a good idea."

The short and portly Minister found that odd. "You mean all of this? Nonsense, this is Harry Potter's homecoming, why not celebrate his return?"

Moody stared at Fudge with both eyes. "Did Albus suggest this?"

Fudge chuckled at that. "Oh I didn't bring it up with him. Not much reason to, after all."

"Minister Fudge! Auror Moody! A picture for the Prophet?" a photographer asked as he held up a camera.

"Of course my boy!" Fudge replied as he remained shaking Moody's hand. The flash went off, capturing what would be the last precious seconds of order and civility in the hospital.

As the cameraman lowered his camera, a pretty blonde reporter with rosy red lips that matched the crimson of her nail polish stepped up. "Minister Fudge, Alastor Moody, Rita Skeeter of the Daily Prophet. Could either of you tell us the condition of The-Boy-Who-Lived?"

Before Moody could open his mouth to answer, a woman healer spoke with great urgency and panic in her voice over the PA system. "Attention all patients and guests. St. Mungo's will be entering emergency lockdown. All patients and guests are to stay in the predesignated Lockdown Areas and not to be out in the hallways. All security staff are to report to the third floor immediately."

Moody and Fudge stared up at the PA speaker, as a man's voice shouted out. "Merlin's balls, why are there so many knives?!"

"Correction, security staff on their way to the third floor are to report to the second floor immediately. Additionally, healers are required on the fourth and third floor. And if there are any Aurors on the premises–PLEASE HELP!"

Moody shut his shuttable eye as Fudge went ghastly pale. "Oh fuck a duck."

Rita held up her notepad. "Can I quote you on that?"

"Yes," Moody said before he tapped his walking stick onto the ground and disapparated.

* * *

><p>On the second floor, stunners flew and impacted with the now very unconscious body of a hospital security wizard, used by Harry as a human shield. From under the defeated mage, a pair of knives flew and struck the wand hands of the casting wizards. As his shield dropped to the ground, Harry tossed another six knives up in the air in front of him, before pointing forward, willing the knives to become missiles that struck the two wizards and tagged a third behind them, dropping them all with injuries.<p>

"I'm not really all for this, but you are all being unhealthily insistent," he said sternly as he produced another trio of knives in each hand.

There was a pop behind him, and Harry quickly spun around and found Moody had appeared behind him. Tapping his walking stick against the ground, the old wizard glowered at him. "Lad, do not make the beating I'm going to deliver unto you worse than it's already going to be."

Harry had recalled how easily Moody no-sold his surprise knife throw before. He had himself a badass over here, and he wasn't being facetious. He readied his smiled. "Yeah, I think I'm going to enjoy paying you back for chasing me around, old timer."

He let fly three knives, and each one was smartly deflected by the ram's head on the end of Moody's walking stick.

Tapping the stick onto the ground, Moody cast a stunner as Harry ran straight for him. Harry went left and jumped to avoid the stunner, Running across the wall, he leaped to kick Moody in the head.

Once more, Moody's walking stick came into play, blocking the kick. From his very brief perch atop the stick, Harry threw down his knives, which went through the smoke left by his disapparition

Landing on the spot Moody stood, he jumped off and onto the opposite wall, avoiding another stunner as he threw more knives at Moody, who had reappeared further down the hall. The knives, however, were just as quickly banished back at Harry, who landed on the floor and ducked low under them.

Harry let out a whistle as he stood, before he produced a single knife and pointed it at Moody.

"Geminio!" he called out, and the air directly in front of Harry was full of dozens of knives that oriented themselves to point at Moody before launching themselves.

Moody growled and waved his staff. "Ventus!"

A blast of wind hit the knives, scattering the knives into the walls, floor, and ceiling in front of Moody. Beyond the cloud of blades, Moody caught a glimpse of Harry running around a corner. He was heading for the stairs again.

He disapparated, apparating in front of Harry and firing a stunner straight for the boy's head.

Ducking under the stunner, Harry slid on his knees towards Moody, throwing knives on the way. "I got you old man!"

He sprung up, slashing at Moody with a knife clutched tight in his left hand. When Moody blocked with his walking stick. Harry let go of three knives in his right, and willed them to drill into Moody's gut.

Moody was faster, avoiding the knives with a simple sidestep before punching Harry in the face with his free hand, launching him back into the wall.

Leveling the walking stick at him, Moody fired another stunner, smashing Harry flat against the wall, before landing a full body bind curse upon him. Drawing back his walking stick, Moody hissed a "Tch" through his teeth.

As before, Harry began to struggle against the full-body bind, slowly looking up at Moody, who could respect that. "Just like your parents, you don't give up easily. That's admirable."

"I know," Harry said as he began to decompose to dust.

His normal eye becoming as wide as his Mad-Eye, Moody froze as Harry popped up behind him, his hands drawing outward and causing the lights overhead to reflect off the strands of garrote wire connected to his now fingerless gloves.

The wires snapped taut around Moody's limbs, pulling them up over his head and forcing him to drop his walking stick. More wires locked around his legs, his waist, his neck, and face, securing him in place.

Moody only needed a split-second to realize what happened. The boy hadn't just cast Geminio on the knives! "… Bloody brilliant."

Planting his feet, Harry pulled with all of his strength, and let out a yell as he lifted Moody off his feet and swung him around–slamming him into the doors to the stairwell. Running after him, Harry charged the immobilized Moody before jumping and kicking him in the chest, sending them both through the doors and down the stairs.

End over end, both tumbled down the four flights of stairs, past the first floor (bowling over several security and Aurors rushing up to join the battle), before they came crashing out at the ground floor, Harry surfing atop Moody's chest as the old Auror slid to a halt.

Panting, Harry looked down at Moody before looking up at an awed Wizarding Press and horrified Minister Fudge.

"Bloody Hell," he said, "That was the most incredible thing I've ever done in my life."

Slipping off the fingerless gloves, Harry reached into his pocket and calmly pulled out his own leather riders before putting them on his hands. Looking at the wizards in front of him, he fanned out a dozen knives in each hand.

"Right then," he began to his audience, "if any of you are interested in experiencing what it's like to be stabbed with a lot of knives, I encourage you further impede my checking out of this hospital."

Next to Fudge, Rita Skeeter looked back and forth from the boy to the Minister, who was growing increasingly horrified. She could not help herself. "Minister Fudge, is this…. Harry Potter?"

Harry's glare sharpened at the name.

"That would be correct," another old man spoke. Fudge and Rita both looked back and stood aside quickly as the Headmaster of the Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, and Grand Mugwump of the International Confederation of Wizards Albus Dumbledore stepped forth.

Harry didn't hesitate, quickly throwing all twelve blades at Dumbledore, who with a simple wave of his hand stopped them all in mid-flight before they could reach him. "Now, there'll be none of that, Harry. No one here wants to hurt you."

Harry wasn't surprised. This was Dumbledore, bar none the most powerful wizard in the Wizarding World. "Beg your pardon, Professor Dumbledore, but after what I did upstairs, I highly doubt that."

As if on cue, six Aurors quickly rallied around Dumbledore, and leveled their wands at Harry. Staring at them, he adjusted his glasses with both hands. Cornelius likewise rallied. "Harry Potter, calm yourself at once! It's as Albus says, no one's your enemy. We're only trying to help you!"

"The full body bind and the stunners that landed me here speak otherwise… Cornelius Fudge, was it?" Harry retorted, prompting stares of disbelief from the press aimed at Fudge.

"We needed to get you away from those muggles, my boy, I apologize for the force we had to use, but it was necessary!" Fudge retorted quickly.

"Do not try to spin this, Mr. Fudge. Without any warning, you had these Aurors come after me, aggressively, pursuing me everywhere I went!"

Fudge nodded. "Yes, but do understand, the circumstances required-"

"What circumstances, Mr. Fudge? What required you to send Aurors after me instead of a letter of acceptance to Hogwarts?" Harry looked around the room. "I'm sure many people in this room would like to know as much as I do!"

Dumbledore too looked to Fudge, who opened his mouth to offer an answer, but stopped short of saying it. Suddenly, he looked like a man wishing for something, anything to happen to get him out of this situation.

The sound of a diesel engine running at full output suddenly filled the air, followed by screams that started from outside the hospital and worked their way in as recognition dawned like the morning sun. Then there were explosions, as a four-wheeled armored personnel carrier smashed through not only the under-renovation clothing store that served as the hospital's front, but through the wards keeping muggles out and into the front lobby of St. Mongo's itself, sending patients, staff, and press diving for cover lest they be crushed by the flung debris or the vehicle itself.

Stepping from atop Moody, Harry smiled when he saw the Hellsing Emblem, proudly emblazoned on the front of the APC.

The dust hadn't even begun to settle, when the Aurors protecting Fudge and Dumbledore trained wands on the light-armored vehicle as its rear ramp hatch fell open with a clang. Ready to cast stunners, the Aurors behind watched as Integra stepped out of the cloud of dust. . She looked among the gaping civilian wizards and the Aurors, before she announced.

"My name is Integra Fairbrook Wingates Hellsing. You Wizards have taken something that belongs to me, and I am here to reclaim it."

The sound of blades moving through the air was followed by the wands of the surrounding Aurors being neatly sliced by the fine, nearly invisible strands of Walter's garrote wire. The Butler himself stepped out beside Integra, as Ms. Pinkstone lifted up the armored vehicle's turret hatch and stood, sweeping the armored vehicle's automatic cannon from side to side threateningly.

Spotting Moody, Ms. Pinkstone's face lit up and she waved. "Oh, hello Alastor!"

"Carlotta," Moody replied, polite but curt, and retaining as much dignity as a hogtied man could.

As the Aurors raised their hands in surrender, Integra found it immensely satisfying–but the sudden urge to light a victory cigarillo was a little weird.

Integra walked over, followed closely by Walter, before she gave Fudge a deadly look. "Minister of Magic Cornelius Fudge, I presume?"

Fudge grew flustered. "Yes, but who-?"

"I have already introduced myself, and I will not repeat it! Minister Fudge, when I woke up this morning, I awoke to a full breakfast of scrambled eggs, bacon, sausage, oatmeal, toast and tea. It smelled delicious and was presented as if prepared by a five-star chef."

Fudge grew more perplexed. "I see-?"

"However, the eggs were not slightly runny, the bacon wasn't charred at the ends, and the tea had only two spoonfuls of sugar." She stepped up to Fudge, her blue eyes sharp with anger. "That is how I knew that my personal butler had not returned from his mission, and that is why I have tracked him down and driven a French-made Armored Personnel Carrier through this hospital. If he is not returned to me in fifteen seconds I will have Walter here strip you of your clothes, string you up like a puppet, and make you do the bloody Macarena!"

Cornelius Fudge did not know what a Macarena was, but it sounded aggravating.

"There will be no need for that, Miss Integra," Harry said as he stepped past Fudge and Dumbledore. "I was already letting myself out."

On seeing him unhurt and not a strand of hair out of place, Integra almost lost her noble composure. Stopping herself mid gasp, she gave Harry an icy look. "Harry, when we return you will be preparing me a proper breakfast."

Harry smiled. "Of course, Miss."

"Miss Hellsing?" Dumbledore asked as he stepped forward.

Integra looked from Harry to the older wizard. "Yes, and you are?"

"I'm Professor Albus Dumbledore, I'm the head of the International Confederation of Wizards," he introduced himself. "I take it you're a representative of the organization that employs Harry?"

Integra nodded quickly. "That is correct."

"Allow me to apologize for the actions that have resulted in Harry being sent to St. Mungo's. It was wholly unjustified and has clearly done more harm than good, regardless of the intentions."

Fudge looked almost betrayed at Dumbledore's apology, but in the interest of not wanting further attention, he kept his head bowed.

"And for what reason has the Ministry of Magic taken these unjustifiable actions against my organization?" Integra demanded.

"Concern for him, mainly. He is of the age where Wizards and Witches his age begin proper education in the ways of Magic. Knowing his position in your organization caused some alarm among members of the Ministry, who felt it prudent to rescue him."

"So that is why they didn't send a normal letter," Ms. Pinkstone said. "I was wondering why an owl hadn't come by yet."

"The boy is a magnificent fighter, he employs his magic well," Moody said then as Dumbledore freed him from the wires. "As a proper Wizard, he'd be a force to be reckoned with."

"That is correct," Dumbledore agreed. "Educated fully in the ways of Wizardry, Harry could offer even more to your organization than he can already. Hogwarts can offer that training."

Integra was obviously wary at this. "So after kidnapping my butler with the intention of 'rescue from my organization', you want to offer a chance to teach him? I'm sorry, but you would have to offer me a great deal to even consider trusting him to you."

"I assure you, no one is going to do anything untowards to Harry while he is in our care, myself and Auror Moody would see to that," Dumbledore reassured her, and Moody nodded in agreement.

Integra nodded. "I will require a little more reassurances than that." She looked to Carlotta, then back to Dumbledore. "I would like Harry's current tutor to accompany him, as my representative while he's undergoing education at the school."

Fudge blanched at the very idea. "H-Her-!"

There was a twinkle in Dumbledore's eye, as he clasped a hand on Fudge's shoulder and pulled him close. "I see nothing at all wrong with that. Miss Pinkstone is not only a well-known witch in the community, but more than qualified to teach at Hogwarts." He looked to Fudge, that gleam becoming deadly. "Isn't that right?"

"O-oh of course… of course!" Fudge said in a slight panic before looking down to Integra with a frightened smile.

For some reason, Dumbledore reminded Integra of Sir Irons just then, and that reassured her somewhat. "In that case, I will allow for Harry to be educated within the Wizarding World. I will have other caveats, but we can address them later."

She nodded her head politely to the two. "If that will be all, then we will be on our way home. Harry? Walter?"

"At once, Miss Integra," both butlers said as they fell into step behind Integra.

Fudge was still sputtering as the three boarded the APC. Looking down from the turret, Carlotta smiled and blew a kiss to Moody. "Until next time, Alastor."

"Carlotta," Moody curtly replied as she ducked down into the turret and pulled the hatch down and closed. Engine growling, the APC backed slowly out of the hospital and through the clothing store front, before turning and driving off down the street.

As the vehicle drove out of sight, Fudge turned to see Dumbledore chuckle in amusement.

"My, this upcoming year will be an interesting one," Dumbledore said as he drew his wand and went to start repairing the hospital.

He had no fucking clue, and if he did, boy there were dudes who wanted to party with this guy.

Aboard the APC, Integra sat across from Harry, who relaxed in his seat and leaned against Ms. Pinkstone.

"So," Integra began, "since your birthday present from Father was so awful, would you like for something to make up for it?"

Harry closed his eyes, and then a ghost of a smile appeared on his lips. "Actually, Miss Integra, all things considered… Sir Arthur's present was _great."_

Integra blinked in confusion, searching for a meaning to that. "Oh?"

* * *

><p><strong>ITALY<strong>

"A-CHOO!"

A bag full of swag from her trip slung over her shoulder, Heinkel walked up the steps to the Cathedral Headquarters of Section XIII of the Vatican, the Iscariot Organization. She had gotten a chill from being left unconscious on that boat all night, and was pissed as all hell that not only had she lost her shot at killing that Hellsing brat, but it was Wizards who cost her that shot.

She'd just reached the top of the stairs when the doors opened and a pair of Catholic Priests/Inhuman monsters stepped out.

"Ah, welcome home wee lass," the blonde, relatively younger looking of the two men greeted with a Gaelic accent as they passed.

"Afternoon, Father Anderson, afternoon Father O'Mally'O'Connel'O'Carrol'O'Reilly'O'Brian'O'Sullivan… who is also Italian."

The second, inexplicably named priest dipped his head politely to Heinkel, and the the newly arrived Nun went on into the mansion.

Passing the threshold of the mansion, Heinkel sniffled and then sneezed again. "Damn it."

"Is someone thinking about you, Heinkel-chan?"

Heinkel looked up and saw a pretty Nun of Japanese descent who, like seemingly everyone in this god damned organization, was wearing a pair of glasses… glasses that immediately reminded her of that Protestant brat. "No, I caught your cold."

Yumiko Takagi gasped. "Oh no! I'm so sorry! It didn't interfere with your mission, did it?" the young Bride of Christ asked.

"No, it's just annoying as all hell," she continued on. "Now shove off, I have to deliver my report to Father Cornelius."

"Hai!" Yumiko replied.

"And we're going to work on your English when we're done! Or Italian. Or Latin, or whatever the fuck we're speaking I don't know."

Marching down the hall, Heinkel reached the doors to the office of Iscariot's leader, Father Cornelius, and opened the door. "Father Cornelius?"

Behind the desk, an older English gentleman looked up over his mountain of paperwork spread across his mahogany desk and nodded. "Ah, welcome back Sister Heinkel. How was the Emerald Isle?"

"About as beautiful as pea soup," Heinkel reported. "The job's done, the vampire's dead, and I've recovered all I can from it."

She hoisted the bag up and dropped it on the desk. Father Cornelius stared at the bag. "Was there anything of particular note, Sister?"

"This vampire was stronger and more durable than previous specimens. Took over a hundred rounds and a grenade to kill it." She reached into the bag and pulled out a large glass jar. "I managed to recover this from its corpse. It was lodged right into what was left of its brain."

Cornelius took the jar and stared at it, before blinking in confusion.

"… Is this a microchip?"

* * *

><p>AN: Ahhhhh FREAK OUT! Le Freak! C'est Chip!


	4. A Sorted Affair

Tonks: The following is a fan-written parody. Harry Potter is property of J.K Rowling and is published by Bloomsbury Publishing and Arthur A. Levine Books. Hellsing Ultimate is property of Kouta Hirano and Studio Madhouse, and licensed by Geneon, Madman Entertainment, Manga Entertainment, and Funimation. Hellsing Ultimate Abridged is the collaborative effort of TeamFourStar. TNT was written by AC/DC and is distributed by Albert Productions. Please support the Official Release.

Tonks: And yes, I did pretty much sleep through all of that. And yes, I am paying for it by scrubbing the Auror Headquarters toilets with a toothbrush.

* * *

><p><em>One month later…<em>

"… And that's basically how I got enrolled in Hogwarts," Harry James Dornez, or rather Harry James Potter as he would go by during his school year, finished explaining to his cabin mate aboard the last carriage of the Hogwarts Express, a ruddy-looking red haired and freckled boy by the name of Ron Weasley, who up to this moment had been slavishly hanging onto his every word as he told his story of vampire hunting and Auror fighting.

Ron blinked owlishly at Harry, who sat across from him, dressed in a pair of jeans and a sweater as opposed to his classier attire. Sitting back, the youngest son and second youngest child overall of the absurdly prolific Weasley family digested what he'd just been told.

"That's amazing, but I'm confused about something."

Harry blinked. "What?"

"Since you're going to Hogwarts, who's going to make Miss Integra her breakfast?" he asked.

Harry smiled. "Well, every weekend I have to take a portkey back to London so I can assume my duties as her personal butler. But until then, she'll have to suffer Walter's exceptional cooking."

Harry looked out the window of the train at the rolling English countryside and felt a pang of guilt. SIr Arthur had succumbed to his illness only the week before, entrusting the organization to Integra. It was a tall order for a twelve year old, but Sir Arthur believed that Integra could do it, Walter and Ms. Pinkstone believed it as well, and knowing her as well as he did Harry believed she could do it even better than her father did.

"Knut for your thoughts?" Ron asked.

Harry looked back to his traveling companion and managed to smile again. "Oh, just thinking of Miss Integra. Since Sir Arthur's gone, the entire organization's been left to her."

"Blimey… will she be all right?" Ron asked.

"She'll do splendid. Besides, her Uncle Richard is there to help her with everything she needs. She's in good ha-"

"Shit! Shit! Shit! Shit! Shit! Shit! Shit! Shit! Shit!" a terrified and alone Integra chanted with every footstep as she ran hard and fast for her life down the hall of Hellsing Manor from her power-hungry, crazed, and possibly traitorous Uncle and his henchmen.

"Come back my niece, my dear little Integra, my… _fraulein…_ Uncle Richard just wants to have a chat~"

Hearing him cock a pistol after that just made her run harder. "SHIT!"

**Harry Potter and the Endless Night  
>Chapter 3: A Sorted Affair<strong>

Sitting in her cabin aboard the train, Hermione Granger had her nose buried firmly in her book _Hogwarts: A History,_ and was soaking up its info like a sponge. The bushy-haired, buck-toothed girl who would one day grow up resembling an actress way too hot and sober to have come out of a career of children's films, had so far enjoyed her journey into the Wizarding World except for a couple of issues.

The first one was the uneasy feeling that common sense was at a premium in the Wizarding World. Being a bright girl, though, she chalked it up to the fact that Wizards and Witches were so reliant on the convenience of magic that the idea of any alternatives not involving magic were alien to them.

The second and harder to shake issue was the suspicion and distrust that she was getting from her fellow classmates–particularly the more full-blooded witches and wizards in training. That bitch sitting up in the first carriage of the train, Pansy Parkinson or whatever, called her a mudblood and flipped her off the second Hermione introduced herself as coming from Muggle Parents.

While that bitch would be going down harder than JFK Jr. soon enough, the racist atmosphere would probably take a lot more work.

She looked up from her book? "Harder than JFK Jr.?" Her nose wrinkled in disgust. "No, EgyptAir Flight 990 definitely."

Her cabin door opened and a round-faced and chubby-looking kid whose helpless expression screamed "punch me!" to anyone sadistic enough to take up the offer peered in. "Excuse me, but I lost my toad, c-can you help me find him?"

Hermione closed up her book and got up. "All right, let's go. My name's Hermione and you are?"

"Neville Longbottom," the boy shyly replied.

Hermione stopped, and after a moment of staring at him aghast, embraced him in a hug, pulling him close to her to his surprise.

"Uh… w-what…?" he began.

"Neville… where I come from, having a name like that would get you punched in the face every day. But I'm here for you, and I won't let you get punched," she promised.

Neville wasn't sure what she meant by that, but this was the first time a girl ever hugged him for anything, so he went with it.

"So why a toad as a pet, Neville? They're not very useful as such," Hermione said as they strolled down the corridor from the second carriage to the third.

Neville looked down. "My Great Uncle gave it to me…"

Hermione frowned. "Why would he do that?"

A toad was an awful thing to give to a child, they weren't good for much these days, what with the laws in place against using such animals for potion making while alive. Even worse, they were slimy, ugly, and they tended to smell funny. Giving a Wizard Child a toad as a child was tantamount to slapping a "Kick Me!" sign on their back.

"He said I needed a pet, and that a toad and I had a lot in common," Neville replied.

Hermione nodded. "Huh, your Great-Uncle must hate you."

"I think so, too," Neville replied. "But I'm used to it."

Hermione thinned her lips briefly before she knocked on the first door they reached on the third carriage. She knocked on the door, before opening it.

"… She's in good ha-" Harry stopped and looked over at Hermione and Neville. "Oh, hello!"

Hermione gave a surprised start when she saw Harry. "Hello Harry."

Harry nodded politely to her. "It's good to see you again."

Neville heard Harry and gaped at the boy. "Harry… are you Harry Potter?!"

"He sure is," Ron said–still quite proud to have made his acquaintance.

Most unexpectedly, Neville shoved Hermione out of the doorway. "Run!"

Hermione resisted the shoving. "Neville! What on Earth-!"

"Harry Potter is a madman, insane! He nearly killed a dozen people at St. Mungo's!" Neville gasped as he turned around and tried to place himself as a shield between her and Harry.

"In my defense, I was only trying to check out and they insisted on stopping me," Harry replied.

Hermione grabbed Neville by the shoulders and turned him around to face her. "Neville, I've met Harry before; he's perfectly harmless so long as you're not hostile to him."

Neville found that hard to swallow, particularly given the story his Great Uncle spun him of that dreadful day. Of blood splattered hallways, knives sticking gruesomely from bodies, of the terror that the boy radiated when he brought Mad-Eye Moody low before the Minister of Magic himself.

Hermione, sensing his dread on the increase, bopped him lightly on the head. "Calm down, he's perfectly safe."

To emphasize, she ushered him into the room and sat Neville next to Ron before taking her own seat across from the two boys and next to Harry. "Honestly…"

"How did you meet Harry?" Ron asked, hoping for another sick-nasty story.

Harry spoke. "Well, it wasn't anything dramatic…"

_Three weeks ago…_

"We've gotten your wand, telescope, cauldron, phials, and scale. Next would be your books," Integra said as she, Harry, and Ms. Pinkstone made their way through the narrow and convoluted streets of Diagon Alley. Despite the crowded street, the trio appeared to command a wide berth, mainly because of wizards and witches recognizing them from the papers and getting the fuck out of their way.

"I hope they've at least updated some. The books were all older than sin back in the 30s," Miss Pinkstone said of Hogwarts' required reading materials.

Harry looked up at the witch, who looked around and then pointed. "There we are, Flourish and Blotts! This is one of my favorite places, they're very sympathetic to the cause."

"For the chance of gaining an entirely new market, why wouldn't they be?" Integra asked as they walked in and found the front of the store a hive of activity. Children of all year levels were going back and forth, some accompanied by parents, others by their friends, and still others by only the mountains of books they carried.

Integra, being a bookish girl herself, was suitably impressed. "I think I'll be spending a few hours here."

She could barely contain her eagerness as she all but skipped off down the nearest aisle and began scanning the shelves for anything sufficiently interesting to read.

"And like that we've lost her," Ms. Pinkstone mock lamented before leading Harry down another aisle. "Come along, Harry! Let's pick out your books."

Down the aisle they went, Ms. Pinkstone picking out several books and Harry trailing behind with an eye out for anything she missed. As they passed through an intersection in the aisles into an emptier part of the store, Harry heard "Ugly bucktoothed mudblood" get hissed and stopped to investigate the racial slur.

Peering around the tall bookshelf, Harry spied a large-boned, almost square-shaped black-haired girl shoving a smaller, bushy-haired girl back against the opposite bookshelf and chuckling about it. The smaller girl didn't seem to react much, just holding tighter to the four books she carried to avoid dropping them.

"That was uncalled for," Hermione Granger said in a trembling voice to her tormentor, Millicent Bulstrode. "I nearly dropped my books, and I would've had to pick them all back up."

Millicent looked down at the books Hermione carried, and then back up to the timid looking girl–before she grabbed her books from her and dropped them to the floor. "Oops. Looks like you'll have to pick them up."

Looking heartbroken at the prospect, Hermione sighed and lowered herself down to her hands and knees to gather up her books. As she neatly stacked them, Millicent chuckled and kicked one of the books just out of her reach.

Hermione looked up, but kept her head low. "Please, I don't know what I did but I'm sorry…"

When Hermione crawled over for the book, Millicent moved in front of her and lifted a foot to rest upon her head, before grinding her heel into her bushy hair. "You told me you were a mudblood."

Hermione, as the heel ground into her head, spoke. "And you should be sorry for that."

"And you should be sorry for that." Millicent said, before she stopped and blinked in confusion. "Huh?"

Hermione then grabbed Millicent's planted ankle, before rising to her feet and yanking Millicent's from under hers, dropping her onto the floor with an audible thud. Before she could let out a cry, Hermione's foot came down on her throat, cutting it off to a squawk.

Behind her, Harry's mouth fell open in shock.

"Millicent, was it? I'm very new to the Wizarding and such, but not to bullying. I'm a very bright girl with very defining features, and that makes me a prime target for such behavior." She gestured to her bushy hair for emphasis. "So here's something I want for you to remember, one simple little thing you can tell all your friends, and it's this:"

She leaned down closer, applying more pressure to her throat. "Do. Not. Fuck with me."

She removed her foot from the gasping girl, and stepped back. "Now pick my books up, bitch."

When Millicent completed the task and retreated in fear, Hermione smirked in satisfaction and turned around to continue on her way–stopping when she saw Harry gaping at her.

"That was bloody wicked," he said after a moment.

Stone still for a moment, Hermione's face became a cute shade of red from embarrassment. "Oh um… I'm sorry about that… she was being rude and I just can't stand such a- "

"Don't be sorry! I saw the whole thing! She called you a mudblood and shoved you, didn't she?" Harry glanced off in the direction she went briefly. "If you hadn't been baiting her for that takedown, I would've done knocked her down a peg myself."

Hermione recoiled a bit, surprised he saw through what she was doing. "You noticed?"

"Well yeah, that girl weighed as much as two of you. There was no way you'd be able to take her down fairly." He then held up his hands, pantomiming a twist. "But if you're going to do that. next time try to get one of your opponent's legs in a lock so they don't get out from under you."

"I actually considered going for a submission, but I didn't want her to make too much noise. Besides, she was confident enough in her own size that the idea of being taken down and having a foot to her throat would obviously be inconceivable to her."

Were Harry only a few years older than he was now, he'd be deeply in love with this girl. But as it was, he just thought she was really flippin' cool. He thrust out his hand to her. "I'm Harry."

"Hermione Granger!" she replied as she shook his hand–then realization dawned on her. "Wait, you wouldn't be Harry Potter, would you?"

Harry nodded, still smiling.

Hermione smiled a little larger, and she shook his hand more firmly. "It's a pleasure to make your acquaintance, Harry Potter."

_In the present…_

Neville stared, slack-jawed at Hermione after Harry relayed the story. Ron, in contrast, was excited. "Bloody wicked! Do you do that to anyone who messes with you?"

"Just the ones who have it really coming," Hermione humbly replied. "I'm not some delinquent school girl brawler or anything of the sort. I would just like to have a productive school year like anyone else."

"If anyone tries to beat me up, you'll have my back then right, mate?" Ron asked.

Hermione smiled. "A friend of Harry's is a friend of mine… unless you're a twat."

"Ron's far from a twat," Harry reassured her. "Why, when I met him on the platform, his sister was crying, begging for him not to go, and he was trying his best not to cry himself while telling her that he had to."

"Aww!" Hermione cooed. "You're a sweetheart!"

"Harry!" Ron cried, rubbing the back of his head as he blushed deeply in embarrassment.

Neville was having a difficult time wrapping his head around this. But, a common theme immediately emerged: Harry and Hermione were raised by muggles, and both fought and casually talked about fighting like it was no big deal. His great uncle often told him that muggles weren't a terribly bright lot, but he never said anything about them being barbaric monsters who fought and killed people for fun!

"See? How can someone so pure be a twat?" Harry insisted.

And then like Bloody Mary or Biggie Smalls, the door opened again, and everyone looked up to see the well-gelled and pompous Draco Malfoy standing in the doorway with his gorilla-like friends Vincent Crabbe and Gregory Goyle. Draco had opened his mouth to make some sort of asinine statement about Harry Potter's arrival and his alleged hanging out with a Weasley, when he actually recognized the boy factually hanging out with a Weasley.

Neville and Ron, who recognized Draco Malfoy, watched in amazement as Draco's expression bounced around from surprise to disgust to fear and then to terror. Then, dramatically, Draco pointed at Harry.

"What are you doing here?!" he yelled in fright.

"I'm a student," Harry said.

It was amazing how he didn't bite his tongue off with his teeth chattering like that. "No, but… but what about…?!"

As Crabbe and Goyle stared at Draco in confusion, Ron had the decency to ask. "What are you on about?"

Hermione smiled. "Oh, I know this one!"

_One Month Ago…_

"It's been so nice of you to help us, Ms. Pinkstone," Mrs. Granger said to the witchy woman as she led her group now plus two more muggles and their muggleborn daughter, through the chaos of Diagon Alley.

"Yes, we've been having a spot of difficulty finding our way around since we got here. Seems if you don't wear robes and a hat, no one wants a thing to do with you," Mr. Granger added.

"Well, that's just the climate of the community. It's inexcusable but a sign of the times," Ms. Pinkstone said before they arrived at Madam Malkin's Robes for All Occasions.

Upon walking in, Ms. Pinkstone called out. "Hello Witches and Wizards~ my Master is a very wealthy young lady and would like to receive preferential treatment such wealth grants her~!"

Seeing several employees immediately abandon their customers and practically fight each other and the crowds in the store to get to them, Harry gave Hermione a sloe-eyed look. "Some things are universal."

Hermione giggled as a positively giddy young man managed to elbow aside his competition and reach Ms. Pinkstone and Integra. "Welcome to Madam Malkins! Please, come right this way, young Miss!"

Integra then snapped her fingers. "I would also like preferential treatment to my entourage," she said of the Grangers.

"Of course, Miss." the clerk said as the woman he elbowed shot him a dirty look while on her way to tend to the muggle family.

Some time later, Harry stepped out of a changing booth, dressed in a shiny black wizarding robe over the gray sweater and black slacks of the Hogwarts uniform. Sipping from a fancy drink, Integra let out a judgmental hum. "No, that's rubbish, try the other one."

Harry sighed and went back into the booth, to strip out of his seventh robe tried on.

"Goodness, have mercy on the boy and let him pick out what he wants," Ms. Pinkstone suggested.

"His sense of style is rubbish. Do you remember the one time I let him dress as he wanted to?"

Ms. Pinkstone looked up and to the right, but due to flashback constraints, she immediately recalled it. "But it was cute how you two matched."

"Please, he looks awful in all of my dresses and you know it."

"You said I looked great in your school uniform," Harry called from beyond the curtain.

"Harry, skirts and dresses are two different things," Integra pointed out.

"Ah, M-Ms. Pinkstone, a little help?" Mr. Granger called with a bit of urgency.

Ms. Pinkstone looked over. "Of course, dear." She rested a hand on Integra's shoulder before heading off. "What happened?"

"My wife, she was trying something on and…"

"Oh, say no more! I'll be right there!" she said as she followed Mr. Granger towards another part of the store.

Idly taking a sip of her drink after seeing Ms. Pinkstone make a beeline straight for the lingerie section of the shop. "I didn't think they'd have something like that."

Harry stepped out again, wearing a green robe with an attached hood. "How's this?"

"Terrible, change into something else," she snapped at him.

With a sigh of acquiescence, Harry went back into the changing booth. As Harry disappeared behind the curtain, another boy sat next to her. Noticing the blonde-haired, blue-eyed, and unusually well kept (for what she'd seen of wizards so far at least) boy, Integra hummed in curiosity.

"Excuse me, but are you going to Hogwarts?" she asked politely.

The boy, Draco Malfoy, turned and looked at her, his eyes widening slightly in surprise at the sight of the extremely pretty girl. He immediately put on a charming smile and the worldly Integra immediately recognized where this was going. Fortunately, she thought he was pretty cute so she was happy it was going this way.

"Yes, my father's buying my books right now, and my mother's looking at wands," he said in a bored, relaxed voice that screamed upper class and matched up perfectly with his nigh-spotless appearance. Good for Integra, she wasn't really keen on the idea of dating below her status.

"It's bloody boring, I'd rather go have a look at the new racing brooms. The Nimbus 2000 just came out, and I want to grab one before they're all gone."

Ah, broom flying, Ms. Pinkstone took her on that once. Afterward Integra decided that such a thing was stupid and insane, and helicopters or portkeys would be her preferred mode of transport. "I'm sorry, I haven't much stomach for it. My tutor took me flying once and I nearly fainted."

"Oh, you get rather used to it after the first few times." Draco smirked some before he whispered low to her. "Children aren't normally permitted to fly on brooms, but I've been doing it since I was seven."

Oh, he screwed the rules too?! He was cute _and_ a bad boy! Integra hadn't been this fascinated by a male since her father brought N*Sync to be her personal entourage for the day as a birthday gift.

Unconsciously, Integra began to toy with her hair, pushing it out of the way of her face and glasses. "Really?" When he nodded, she only became more fascinated. "Have you ever fallen off?"

"Plenty of times, once broke my arm and my broom and I had to walk for hours back home to get it fixed." Draco rolled up his sleeve, showing off a pale scar along his forearm. "My Father insisted on having this removed, but I thought it was wicked."

Good looking badboy with scars to prove he wasn't a little bitch? Integra was sold! She smiled demurely at him. "My name's Integra, and you are?"

Draco put on a cocky smirk that made Integra all fuzzy inside. "Malfoy, Draco Malfoy."

Integra felt enlightened. So _that _was why Ms. Pinkstone squealed whenever James Bond dropped his name in the Connery films. She then noticed something to Draco's right, and stared with wide eyes.

Blinking at her sudden look of surprise, Draco looked right and fell right off the bench when he found Harry standing over him, radiating a menacing, dark aura, that cast him in near total darkness except for the light gleaming off his round glasses.

"Miss Integra, I have picked out a selection of robes. We should rejoin Ms. Pinkstone and continue on with the shopping, lest we be late getting home for tea," Harry said in a calm, cool voice as he stared beyond Draco's eyes and into his very soul, his glare promising great and horrible challenges that awaited him if he dared make a move towards his Master.

The spell cast upon her by the pretty boy wizard broke under the force of Harry's indomitable aura, and Integra gave Draco a brief, apologetic look before rising to her feet. "So it appears, lead the way Harry."

As Harry led her away, Integra looked down to Draco before removing from her pocket a dainty white handkerchief with blue embroidery and handing it to him. With a final smile, she waved and followed on after her butler.

Much in the same way Harry's terrific presence broke Integra's spell, the gift of her handkerchief broke Draco's, and he regained his wits before he could lose bladder control. Looking down at it, Draco developed the dopiest smile ever. "Integra, what an amazing girl."

.

"Sweet Merciful Christ! What the fuck is that woman wearing!" Integra screamed from the side.

"Just help us get it off! Harry! Get your gloves! And watch out for the tentacles!" Ms. Pinkstone advised.

"You're doing fine, love!" Mr. Granger reassured his moaning wife.

Luckily Draco didn't hear that as he clutched the handkerchief to his chest. "A true Lady."

_The Present…_

"You… that Dark Butler! _You're _Harry Potter?!" Draco yelped as he continued pointing at him.

"A pleasure to see you again Malfoy, Draco Malfoy," Harry teasingly replied.

"Where's your Master?!" Draco demanded.

"The Master of the house passed away recently, and so Miss Integra has been made the new Master. In part because of her duties to the house, she will be forced to take up home schooling and as such will not be attending Hogwarts," Harry replied.

As Draco sagged in disappointment, Gregory asked, "I read in the Prophet that you went mad at St. Mungo's, how did you get out of being to Azkaban?"

"It's a pretty long story-" Harry began.

"But it's totally wicked! Harry's a vampire hunter!" Ron quickly added.

"Vampire hunter?" Gregory and Vincent asked together.

"But that's illegal," Draco said.

"Oh, I hunt criminal vampires, werewolves too… all manner of evil magical creature, really. My Grandfather and Miss Integra's father have trained me very well at it."

That quietly pulled all three boys into the room, Gregory remaining by the door, as Vincent sat next to Neville and Draco next to Hermione. "Have you killed any Vampires?" Draco asked.

"I've killed about seventeen in ten hunts, and I only started hunting about… two months ago," Harry explained.

"Wicked," Vincent said.

"I know, right?" Ron asked.

Hermione smiled and turned to Draco. "Wait until you hear the story about the vampire rave."

"Oh, that's a really cool one," Harry said before he began describing at length his ninth mission involving a party at a muggle warehouse where three vampires made about a hundred ghouls and he, his Grandfather, and Ms. Pinkstone were tasked with clearing it out.

Suffice to say, by the end of the story, there wasn't a person in that cabin who thought Harry Potter wasn't the baddest motherfucker on the train. Even Neville was impressed.

He was still plenty terrified, though.

* * *

><p>"What house are you hoping to get in?" Harry asked Ron as they and their new small circle of acquaintances made their way through the stairs and corridors of Hogwarts for the school's great hall.<p>

"You mean what house I'm going to," Ron replied. "Every Weasley ever has gone into Gryffindor, no exceptions. All five of my older brothers went into Gryffindor."

"How big is your family?" Hermione asked.

"Well, there are seven of us kids. Six boys and one girl."

Draco was amused after hearing that. "There's a girl Weasley?"

"Yeah, first girl in generations in fact," Ron said proudly.

"She'll be renown for the novelty alone," Draco said.

Ron agreed with a laugh, before asking in turn. "What about you?"

"I'm a shoo-in for Slytherin, my mother and father both were Slytherins." Draco glanced in Harry's direction. "And you, Harry?"

"I'm hoping Slytherin, myself," Harry replied. It was practically a Dark Wizard factory after all, and knowing who's who in Dark Wizardry would make hunting Dark Wizards a world easier.

Draco then looked to Hermione. "What about you, Granger?"

"Ravenclaw, Slytherin would be nice too I guess… but I see my chances there are very small.

Harry nodded meaningfully to Hermione, but it appeared that Draco had caught onto it rather quickly.

"You're a Muggleborn?" he asked.

"Yes, is that a problem?" Hermione asked.

Draco glanced from Hermione, to Harry, and then back to her. "Not really. My parents don't care much for Muggleborns."

"Well as long as you think differently," Hermione replied with a smile.

Harry looked over to Neville, who until this point had been rather quiet. "Hey Neville, what about you?"

Neville looked down. "I don't know, my Great Uncle says I'm more fit for Hufflepuff than any of the good houses."

"Neville, I'm going to punch your Great Uncle if I ever meet him," Hermione decided.

"Besides, there's nothing wrong with Hufflepuff, Cedric Diggory is a Hufflepuff and he's wicked," Draco added.

Ron grinned and pumped his fist. "Bloody right! Cedric Diggory is the best!"

Harry and Hermione, being the clueless muggle-raised, asked together. "Cedric Diggory?"

Ron laughed. "You think _you're_ awesome, Harry? You should hear some of the stories about Cedric. It's crazy!"

Before Harry could ask Ron to elaborate, they finally reached the Great Hall, and Harry was immediately taken by surprise at the size of the room, the magical projection of the night sky, and the hundreds of older students already seated at their four long tables. Looking back among the other first years, he noticed something else… there were a lot of them, too.

This school was fucking huge.

"Goodness, there are so many new students!" Nurse Poppy Pomfrey whispered aside to her coworker and friend Professor Pomona Sprout at the fifth table at the end of the four rows where the school's staff sat.

Professor Sprout, House Head of Hufflepuff House and the herbology teacher, nodded. "Yes, and almost half of them are Muggleborn or Halfblood."

Sitting on the other side of Professor Sprout, the goblin-esque Professor Filius Flitwick, Head of Ravenclaw Charms Master, shook his head. "Looks like we'll need to make our classrooms a tad larger. It's as Dumbledore predicted."

"And there he is, Harry Potter. He looks exactly like his father, better posture though."

Flitwick, Sprout, and Pomfrey looked to their right to the Head of Slytherin House and Potions Master, Professor Horace Slughorn, before following his gaze to the crowd of First Years. They weren't the only ones staring, nearly every student who picked up a paper in the last month were all looking–directly at Harry Potter as Draco explained to him the legend of Cedric Diggory.

"… And when the boat came to shore all the Quintupeds were…" Draco suddenly noticed how quiet it had gotten, and then noticed the stares.

With ears sharp as his, Harry could pick out their murmurs.

"… That's Harry Potter…"

"… He's really a first year…"

"… The Maniac of St. Mungo's…"

"… The Vampire Hunter…"

"… The Boy Who Lived…"

He could hear it all in their whispers and see it in their expressions: Fear, admiration, even anger, but most importantly… awe.

Miss Integra would be proud of the first impression Harry made.

Professor Minerva McGonagall, Head of Gryffindor House, Transfigurations teacher, and a slew of other titles, wasn't one to miss an opportunity, summoning forth the venerated Sorting Hat and the notably less venerated Sorting Stool. After a few moments of silence, the tattered, yet still pointy hat began to stir, before a rip near its mouth opened and it began to sing…

"_COME ON AND SLAM! AND WELCOME TO THE JAM! COME ON AND SLAM! AND WELCOME TO THE-!"_

Wide-eyed, Professor McGonagall grabbed the hat and smothered it into silence, before looking immediately towards one of the four tables, specifically to a pair of redhaired and freckle-faced twin boys who went from containing their giggles to laughing loudly.

Most of the Wizard students had no idea the cultural relevance of that strange yelling, but the Muggleborn and/or raised got a kick out of it.

"Hah, we're British but we know where it's from," Harry said as he and Hermione shared a chuckle, while Draco, Neville, and Ron just shared confused looks.

After Fred and George Weasley were left suspended from the ceiling by their feet and the hat unjinxed, it sang its song and Professor McGonagall produced a long parchment. "When I call your name, you will sit on the stool and put on the hat. Once it decides where you will be sorted you will take your seat at the table," she explained before calling the first name. "Abbott, Hannah."

As the girl in question got up and headed over, Harry looked over at the staff table and the adults who would be responsible for his education and well-being for the next nine months. Outright, he noticed that nearly all the teachers were staring at him in turn with vested interest. All except for one.

One teacher, a youngish-looking dressed in dark robes and a large purple turban was looking off to the side, as if distracted by his thoughts, and the moment Harry noticed him, he felt a burning sensation in his forehead. It actually caused him to wince, as he reached up to touch the source of his pain–the lightning-shaped scar.

When he looked towards the turbaned teacher again, he was talking amicably with Professor Slughorn, and the burning had passed. How unusual.

"Are you all right?" Hermione asked.

"Yes, I just had a thing…"

"A migraine?" she asked.

"No…"

"A seizure?"

"No… it felt like someone jamming hot needles into my forehead."

Hermione nodded. "Ah, got a Limp Bizkit song stuck in there."

"No, no… nevermind. Who's that turban guy?"

Hermione looked at him and shrugged her shoulders. "I don't know…" she looked to Draco. "Your finger seems to be on the pulse of Wizardry, Draco."

"Quirinus Quirrell, he's going to be the Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher this year," Draco said.

Harry hummed. "What happened to the last one?"

"She got caught doing inappropriate things with a Seventh Year Hufflepuff and had to resign."

Ron slowly turned his head toward Draco. "How would you know-?"

"Being the son of a member of the Board of Governors has its perks," Draco explained.

"What other perks do you get?" a very interested Ron asked.

"Oh, lots. Best school supplies, preferential treatment in shops… and you'd be amazed what kind of things your parents will openly talk about long as you pretend to be too naïve to understand any of it."

Hermione looked over to Harry. "Universal indeed."

Harry smirked back and nodded.

McGonagall called out. "Ahem! Granger, Hermione!"

Hermione looked away from the conversation and with an embarrassed jump to her step hurried over to the Sorting Hat and Stool combo. Taking her seat, Hermione smiled to Professor McGonagall before the hat was placed over her head.

Unlike the students up to her, the moment it was put in place, the hat sat quiet and still, as if it was having trouble deciding. Hermione, looking up, cocked her head to the side as the hat began to grumble.

"You're a strange one! Finally, it's nice to have a challenge for once!" the hat then said aloud. "You're shockingly brilliant, you've grown up your entire life outsmarting everyone around you…"

"Do go on," Hermione said.

"That cunning and resourcefulness! I've only got one destination in mind!"

"Ravenclaw," Hermione quipped.

"RAVENCLAW!" the hat shouted, before its facsimile of a brow quirked. "Eh?"

"Good for her," Draco said. "She probably would've been killed if she went to Slytherin."

Harry gave Draco a questioning look. "Elaborate?"

"Slytherin House rarely has any muggle-born, and those that get sorted in… they tend to get sorted out," Draco explained

"Ominous," Harry and Ron said together, before Neville Longbottom was called up and rather unceremoniously sorted to Gryffindor. He was in such a hurry to get to the table, that he left the Sorting Stool with the Sorting Hat still on his head.

"They don't really _sort out_ muggle-born, do they?" Ron asked as Neville was asked to come back with the hat.

Draco shrugged his shoulders. "Well, every other year or so since the war ended, a muggle-born or two will end up in Slytherin and usually during Christmas they will die in some tragic accident. Usually a gas main explosion that kills the entire household."

"Is that a fact?" Harry asked.

"Well, one lucked out back in the 98-99 year when he avoided an auto accident that killed his parents over Christmas… but he was so depressed that during Easter he drowned himself in a lake."

Ron shivered. "Blimey… that's dark, mate."

"Malfoy, Draco!" McGonnagall called out.

"It is what it is," Draco said as he got up.

He walked up to Professor McGonagall but before he could even sit down, the hat said, "Look kiddo, just go to Slytherin. There's so much gel up there the next seven kids are going to come out rocking that prissy look and I can't bear to subject them to that."

As the children laughed, Draco glowered at the hat. "You've made a powerful enemy this day," he growled before he went to Slytherin table.

After a number of kids who would have no bearing on the story (except maybe Pansy Parkinson) got sorted, Harry was up on the Sorting Block, hands folded in his lap as Professor McGonagall placed the Sorting Hat on his head.

"Well," the hat said in a voice so low only Harry could hear, "aren't you the formidable one? Quick with the blade, and now you want to be as quick with the wand. Gryffindor, they're prone to get into the scrapes you're looking for… but no. No, you're not that sort, you come from cruelty, from death, from madness!"

Harry hummed.

"You've known it from a very young age, and you know it fondly. You go face the beast but you come back human. Hufflepuff, that's where I should put you."

Harry lifted an eyebrow. "Hufflepu-"

"But no, you're dead set on…" The hat then shouted, "SLYTHERIN!"

There wasn't as much applause as there'd been for Draco, as Harry walked over to the Slytherin table, but Draco still rather graciously shoved another Slytherin out of his chair and offered it to Harry, who took it gratefully.

As he sat, he felt that burning sensation from his scar again, and picked up a spoon to examine it. He shut his eyes tight, as the pain seemed to bore into his skull, before he took a deep breath and looked into the reflection of the spoon, directing it towards the High Table.

There was Quirinus Quirrell, staring straight in his direction.

When he turned his head to look in the High Table's general direction, Quirrell averted his gaze and the burning stopped. Well, this was interesting.

As Harry sat back and watched Ron go up to the Sorting Stool, he began to wonder why Quirrell gave him such a bad vibe… and how long it would take for him to find the perfect time and place to end him.

"HUFFLEPUFF!" the sorting hat suddenly shouted, snapping Harry from his train of thought.

Everyone in the room was staring in astonished silence, from Staff to Second Years, no one could believe what they'd just heard, and no one was more bewildered than Ron Weasley himself, who opened his mouth and shouted:

"What the fuck?!"

* * *

><p>Okay, she could salvage this.<p>

Integra was in the basement, where her father directed her to go in case she needed some serious salvation… and there was nothing but a tightly bound, mostly dessicated corpse down here.

This was bad, but she could salvage this.

She scanned the room. There were no weapons to be seen, nothing that looked like buttons or levers revealing more secret passages, and no tools to aid in her escape. Just the corpse and what looked like a boombox with a tape loaded in it. Why was there a boombox with a tape loaded in it?

She conceded that it was looking worse by the second and things were already shit.

On the bright side, she was in the basement, hidden-

"Oh dear Integra~"

ShitShitShitShitShitShitShitShitShitShitShitShitShitShi-

She was then shot, the bullet passing through her arm, and she fell forward as her blood splattered all over the corpse.

SHIT!

She turned around and looked up at her Uncle Richard, her unhinged, power-crazed Uncle Richard, who was disconcertingly serene as he walked up to her.

"Uncle, please tell me why you're doing this," Integra pleaded as calmly as she could without hollering in pain. Being shot hurt.

"Try to understand, Integra," Richard Hellsing replied, "I waited twenty years to take the reigns from my brother. I thought him becoming a father would cause him to see the light and step aside from leading this organization."

"You do realize I probably have at least three hundred bastard half-siblings, right?" Integra asked.

Her father may have been Protestant but as far as contraception was concerned he was a "devout" Catholic.

One of Richard's henchmen whistled, impressed, and earned a sharp glare from his boss for it.

"Whatever the case," he quickly said as he pressed the barrel of the pistol between her eyes, "with him out of the way, all that's left between my birthright, my title… is my sweet little fraulein."

Integra heard a click, and shut her eyes tightly.

Instead of the echoes of a gunshot and oblivion, Integra heard a long guitar chord, followed by a drum beat.

_Oi! Oi! Oi! Oi! Oi! Oi! Oi! Oi! Oi! Oi! Oi! Oi! Oi! Oi! Oi!_

Opening her eyes, Integra looked up to see her Uncle staring in horror at something behind her. Slowly, she turned to look back as well, and her eyes widened as well.

_See me ride out of the sunset  
>On your colour TV screen<em>

The corpse was moving. It was not just moving, it was thirstily licking up the blood she had spilt, dragging his tongue through it and slurping it into its mouth.

_Out for all I can get_

_If you know what I mean_

The creature's arms, bound behind its backs, shifted and struggled against the black bindings holding it in place, before they began to rip and tear.

_Women to the left of me_

_And women to the right_

With sickening cracks, the arms grew in size before they tore completely free, his hands slamming onto the cobblestone floor of the basement, cracking it and causing all three men to leap back in fright.

_Ain't got gun, ain't got no knife_

_Don't you start no fight…_

The music trailed off and stopped, before The Crimson Fucker lifted his head, orange glowing eyes freezing Richard and his henchmen in place. Slipping his blood-dripping tongue into his mouth, Alucard grinned.

"… Cause I'm T-N-T."

And then there was blood _everywhere._

"OH WHAT THE FUCK!" the man to Richard's left screamed as he was messily shorn in half.

"Ow my life," the man to Richard's right said as he was impaled flipped, upside down, and then exploded into messy chunks, sending blood and viscera splattering all over Richard and Integra.

Lifting his gun, Richard screamed like a little girl as he began shooting at Alucard, and then began screaming properly like a man as his shooting hand was sliced off by the nigh-unstoppable monster.

Her hand clamped over the gunshot wound, and covered head to toe in blood, Integra found herself at a loss for proper words to say in the situation, and opted for what just seemed to fit the situation. "Well fuck a duck."

Falling to his knees and clutching his bloody stump, Richard whimpered as he stared up at the beast. "W-what are you? Why is there a vampire in the Hellsing Manor?"

Alucard stared down at him. "Really? Come on, Dick, you were there for the meeting, weren't you?" He rolled his eyes. "Christ, he wasn't." He then shouted at Richard. "There was a meeting, Dick! Where were you, Brazil or something?!"

Richard began to sweat profusely.

Alucard looked over at Integra. "Can you believe this guy? Did Artie at least tell you, chocolate milk?"

"I didn't find out either until Father was on his deathbed," Integra noted.

Alucard gave pause. "Wait, Artie's dead?"

"Yes, and Uncle Richard tried to usurp me, which is why we're all here," Integra answered.

"Did he die balls-deep in a hooker?"

Despite the pain of her injury, Integra was not above a flat, acerbic look. "No, but the cause of death was related."

"Yes that sounds about right. Where's he buried-"

"Cremation."

Alucard looked up to the heavens. "Damn it, you really did have the last laugh!"

Well that certainly explained why his instructions for his cremation included crossing his arms over his chest with middle fingers raised before he was shoved into the oven.

"Oh well," Alucard then said as he looked down at Richard. "I guess I'll have to make due with the beta."

Richard whimpered as Alucard began to advance on him, before Integra spoke up. "Not so fast, whatever you are."

Alucard looked back at her. "Hm?"

"What's your name?" she asked.

"Alucard, but you can call me The Crims-"

_"Alucard,"_ she sharply cut him off, "this man waited until my father was dead and all the people who could protect me from him were away from my house so he could kill me and take what my father has entrusted to me. You will not drink this man's blood, you will not kill this man."

Richard sagged in relief, until he saw the murderous, steely cold and hard glare she locked onto him.

"A bloody death at the hands of a monster is far too good a consequence for his actions."

There was a moment of silence before Alucard began to giggle, which turned into a chuckle, and continued to grow until it became a maniacal laughter that echoed off all the walls and into the heart of the heart of Richard's fear.

Grabbing her shoulder as his laughter stopped, Alucard leaned close to her, grinning from ear to ear. "Well in that case… where's the closest dairy farm?"__

* * *

><p>AN: He's dynamite.


	5. Big Dog on Campus

Richard: *Whimpering* Th-the following is a fan-written p-parody. Harry Potter is property of J.K Rowling and is published by Bloomsbury Publishing a-and Arthur A. Levine Books. H-Hellsing Ultimate is property of K-Kouta Hirano and S-Studio Madhouse, and licensed by Geneon, Madman Entertainment, M-Manga Entertainment, and Funimation. H-Hellsing Ultimate Abridged is the collaborative effort of T-TeamFourStar. P-p-please support the Official Release.

Richard: There I said it, now tell me what is going to… wait… what are you going to do with that cow?! N-no! NO NOOOOO! *Shlorp*

* * *

><p>"Welcome home, Harry, how was your first week of school?" Integra greeted Harry from behind the heavy oak desk in what was now her office in Hellsing Manor, overlooking the distant London Skyline from the second floor.<p>

In front of the desk, Harry bowed his head. "Largely uneventful."

_Tuesday_

Professor McGonagall smashed open the door to Dumbledore's office, wild-eyed with fright. "Harry Potter has gotten into a fight with Peeves! There are knives everywhere!"

Dumbledore spat out his tea. Behind him, his phoenix Fawkes squawked loudly in surprise.

"The classes aren't very difficult in the least, much easier than the primary education I've received from Grandfather and Ms. Pinkstone."

_Wednesday_

Professor Slughorn swung open the door and marched in. "Professor Dumbledore, Harry's somehow made an Essence of Insanity Potion! Half of my students are rioting in the halls, and the other half think they're trees!"

Dumbledore jumped from the sudden arrival, startling Fawkes–who flapped his wings rapidly.

"Much harder to deal with are the teachers, honestly."

_Thursday_

Pansy Parkinson opened the door to Dumbledore's office, terrified. "Professor Quirrell's stuck to the ceiling! And on fire!"

Dumbledore nearly choked on a lemon drop. Fawkes exploded.

"But I think the next week will be much better."

_Friday_

An almost giddy Professor McGonagall swept into Dumbledore's office. "Professor! Potter has exorcised Peeves! Ah, after one thousand years, we're free!"

Dumbledore, halfway to signing a letter of expulsion, looked up and smiled before crumpling up the letter and tossing it at the pile of ashes that was once Fawkes, who incinerated it when he flared back to life.

"I'm glad it's gone so well for you, Harry. It's been better than my week," Integra said with a weary sigh.

"What happened?" Harry asked.

"Richard attempted to kill me so he could gain control of The Organization. He almost succeeded, except that Father told me of the Unstoppable Vampire God we keep locked in the basement. Suffice it to say, Richard is now stuffed up the bum of a cow on a farm off the A10."

Harry processed that for a moment. "We have a vampire?"

Alucard passed through the wall holding a stack of CDs, causing Harry to jump a bit. "God damn it, Freddie's dead, Jerry's dead, Kurt's dead, Bradley's dead, all of Metallica is dead."

Integra looked up at him. "Metallica isn't dead-"

Alucard held up a copy of the "I Disappear" single.

Integra winced in sympathy before looking to Harry. "This is Alucard, Alucard this is Harry, my personal butler."

"Sup, Mini-Walter," Alucard said in greeting.

"Charmed," Harry replied.

"You certainly are," Alucard hinted.

Harry lifted an eyebrow. "Hm?"

"What?" Alucard immediately answered.

"Now that introductions are out of the way, there is much work to be done," Integra declared. "While my Uncle is out of the way, he has supporters in the MOD and in MI6–turning or terminating them will be a top priority in the immediate-"

"I'm gonna stop you right there, Chocolate Milk."

Harry wondered what he meant by Chocolate Milk and then remembered how inexplicably brown Integra was.

"What is it, Alucard?"

"Well, while we were making some Stuffed Tenderloin a la Hellsing, I read some of Dick's mind to acquire the nouns necessary for dealing with the supporter problem and then went for a little walk."

Integra was about to ask what he meant by that, when Walter, looking rather shaken, stepped in. "Miss Integra, Sir Irons has called and while I could hardly understand his incoherent yelling, I was able to make out something about a cow pasture and several department heads within the MOD and MI6."

"Completely unrelated, but I learned that you can stuff at least three guys up a cow's butt before you got problems," Alucard said.

Harry and Walter stared at Alucard, silent, while Integra just reached up and adjusted her glasses.

"Well done, Alucard. You should go on more walks."

She would come to regret saying this.

**Harry Potter and the Endless Night  
>Chapter 4: Big Dog on Campus<strong>

"… And then I spent the entire weekend helping him update his media collection," Harry finished explaining to Ron and Draco in the Great Hall. The Hufflepuff had come to join the two upstanding young men at the Slytherin Table despite the glares of disapproval from the Prefect of the Gryffindor Table.

Ron blinked owlishly. "A vampire that likes Muggle entertainment, that's bloody weird Harry."

"That's your concern, not him shoving people up cows arses?"

Ron shrugged his shoulders. "Well he is an Unstoppable Vampire God."

Draco was practically seething with jealousy. All his family had was a ruddy House Elf. The Hellsings had a Witch, a Vampire Hunter, The-Boy-Who-In-Fact-Lived, and an actual Vampire as servants!

He was being a good sport about it at least. "How does one become a Hellsing Butler?"

Harry lifted his right hand and began counting off the requirements. "To make the cut, one must undergo strict training in Cooking, cleaning, groundskeeping, chauffeuring, serving…"

Draco nodded with Harry.

Harry moved over to the left hand. "… Unarmed combat, armed combat, firearms, poisons, improvised weapons…"

Draco stopped nodding as Harry went back to his right hand.

"… Sailing, driving, piloting, stealth, infiltration…"

Now Ron was staring blankly, as several other Slytherins looked over to Harry, who'd gone back to his left again.

"… Assassination, body disposal, and first aid. And that's just to start."

Draco stared at Harry, who then smiled brightly. "But before you can start training in that you have to swear unfailing loyalty to the Hellsing Organization and to its head." The smile became colder as Harry leveled an icy gaze on Draco. "Which includes keeping any and all personal feelings you may have about the head of the Organization to yourself and _never_ acting on them. _Ever. Even if the opportunity presented itself to you perfectly."_

Ron looked back and forth between the two boys, and expected Draco to drop dead on the spot. However, the young Malfoy took Harry's intimidation as a challenge. "… That doesn't sound too difficult."

"The organization has a term for men who answer like that, Malfoy." Harry said after a brief moment.

"And that would be?"

"Employed."

Draco did his level best not to be all smug about the praise. Before he could fail at it, however, Hermione calmly strode over from the Ravenclaw table. Harry, Draco, and Ron looked over to her, and found that she was in fact calm in the same sense the ocean was calm as it retreated from shore before a massive tsunami.

Across the table from them, sitting between a pretty blonde-haired girl building a tower from her potatoes and a brunette more enthralled with the book on her lap than her lunch, a raven-haired, hard-faced girl with a bobbed hairstyle glanced up and smirked at Hermione–who folded her arms as she looked down upon her three male friends.

"Is everything okay, Hermione?" Harry asked.

Hermione tightened her jaw for a moment before she answered. "No it is not, Harry. Someone took my copy of _Hogwarts: A History_ and wrote 'Filthy-faced Mudblood' on the inside with ink that won't come out."

She took a deep, fury staying breath. "I'm understandably upset about the slur–and irrationally furious that my book was defaced in such a manner. That said, with the exception of you, Draco Malfoy, Vincent Crabbe, and Gregory Goyle, I am going to question every Slytherin at this table as to the identity of the book defacer. Depending on how you answer, I might have to kick your arse."

To emphasize her threat, the table the Slytherin children and Ron were sitting at shook violently, loudly rattling the silver and flatware atop it..

The raven-haired girl stopped smirking at Hermione and looked at her food. The blonde devouring her tower of mashed potatoes, and the brunette more interested in her book than her food both immediately edged away from her without diverting attention away from their preoccupation.

Hermione looked over at the incriminating move, and sighed. "Pansy Parkinson, was it you?"

Had anyone gotten a proper look at Pansy's face at that moment, they would've seen the fear a child cornered by a very large predator. It was fleeting, however, because in that fleeting moment she rationalized that she was a Parkinson and a Pureblood, and as such, she could easily hold her own against an egg-headed, bushy-haired, buck-toothed, mud-blooded Ravenclaw.

"It was me, Granger, what of it?" she challenged.

The egg-headed, bushy-haired, buck-toothed, mud-blooded Ravenclaw pitched herself into a diving leap across the table and tackled Pansy off her bench and onto the floor.

"Bloody wicked!" Ron exclaimed as he stood up on the bench to get a good look of the beatdown before the inevitable swooping in of the Professors.

"Punch her gob in!" Goyle cheered.

"Knock her teeth out!" Crabbe added.

Harry took a sip of his pumpkin juice before looking to Draco, who had begun cutting into the steak on his plate. "I'm thinking of asking Miss Integra to hire her up as well, you don't have any problem working alongside a Muggleborn, do you?"

"Oh no, not at all," Draco replied before resident Keeper of the Keys and half-giant Rubeus Hagrid finally intervened, picking the two girls up by the backs of their robes and holding them out of reach of one another's viciously flailing limbs.

"I WILL END THE CONCEPT OF YOUR EXISTENCE, GRANGER!" a bloody-nosed Pansy yelled.

"I WILL CARVE 'SCUM-EATING TROLLOP' ON THE INSIDE OF THE BACK OF YOUR SKULL!" Hermione, bloody scratches raked across her face, shrieked back.

Harry felt that burning in his scar again, and glanced towards the High Table. There was Quirrell again, avoiding his gaze.

* * *

><p>"For someone as brilliant as you are, you are frighteningly quick to violence," Ron said to Hermione later that afternoon in the library.<p>

"Well it's like I've said before, Ron, I was bullied a lot in primary school. It's completely eroded my ability to suffer harassment from anyone. I would've had to change schools repeatedly if I didn't keep my grades up so high."

Neville, who had been studying with Hermione, wanted to express more alarm about her violent tendencies–but he was more concerned about the acceptance of said violent tendencies by the school staff. Sure, Hermione was wonderfully kind to him, but she got into a fist fight in the middle of lunch in front of nearly every teacher and got away with it without even any points being taken from Ravenclaw or Slytherin. Wasn't Gryffindor supposed to be the violent maniac house? It had _three Weasleys!_

"No one told me that Wizarding School would be this terrifying," he said aloud.

"It's not that bad," Harry said as he looked up, he was sitting across the table piled with (mostly Hermione's) books, reading a copy of _Fantastic Beasts and Where to Find Them._

Neville grimaced. "It's easy for your to say, you hunt vampires and werewolves, and leprechauns for a living!"

"I've never actually seen a leprechaun before," Harry admitted. "What are they like?"

Ron shrugged his shoulders. "I heard when you catch them, they give you muggle breakfast cereal instead of gold. What's up with that?"

Harry and Hermione shared a look, and silently agreed it'd be funnier if they just said nothing.

Neville sighed and hung his head. "I'm barely above a squib. Why couldn't I have smashed my head open when Great Uncle Algie pushed me out the window?"

Harry wanted to punch Neville's Great Uncle Algie so very badly. "Neville, don't be so hard on yourself. You'll do fine, it's only the start of the first school year."

Hermione agreed. "That's right, you're going to be a great wizard."

"Gryffindors always turn out all right," Ron said. "My brothers Bill and Charlie were terrors, and they came out great. Bill works for Gringotts as a Curse Breaker, and Charlie punches dragons."

And while they were on the subject of punchable things, up walked Pansy. "Granger."

Hermione looked up at her. "Please tell me you're here to give me an excuse."

"As a matter of fact, yes," Pansy replied as she folded her arms and looked down her nose at Hermione. "You're such a smart girl, how are you with a wand?"

"Splendid," Hermione replied sharply. "Professor Flitwick even says I have potential as a duelist."

"Good to hear. I challenge you to a Wizard's duel. Wands only, no contact–which means you're forbidden to lay your mannish hands on your opponent."

Hermione looked down at her hands, and then back up at Pansy with even hotter contempt. "Where and when?"

"Midnight, the cordoned off corridor. No one will interrupt what I'm going to do to you." With that, Pansy smirked and left, Hermione glaring after her.

"Oh no, Hermione don't do it! You'll get expelled for sure!" Neville quickly pleaded.

"Bollocks to that, I'm kicking her arse," she seethed back.

"But dueling is forbidden!"

"I know that, Neville."

"If you get caught past, you'll definitely get in trouble."

"I know that, Ron."

"You could always tell a Professor that Pansy plans to be out past curfew."

"I know that, Harry. But I am going to duel her." Hermione lifted her right hand, balling it into a fist. "The bitch said I had 'Man Hands'."

The three boys looked away from the great aura of anger that radiated from Hermione and silently agreed that while they conceded that girls were becoming increasingly interesting to them, they were still super weird.

* * *

><p>So it came to be that later that evening, that Hermione crept out of Ravenclaw Tower, her robe flowing behind her as she made her way down the spiral staircase with fire in her eyes and attempted murder on her mind. EgyptAir Flight 990 just took off and it was on its bloody date with oblivion.<p>

At the bottom of the steps, she scanned the corridor for any sign of the Gray Lady, or any of the school's ghosts, and after seeing none stepped out into the hallway.

Harry was standing atop the arch of the doorway, looking down at her. "In Wizard Duels you usually have a Second to pick up where the duel left off in the event you die."

Hermione jumped and looked up at him. "Oh, hello Harry." She looked away again as Harry dropped down and landed next to her. "I highly doubt that I'm going to be killed by Pansy Parkinson, but thank you for the consideration."

Together, they began walking for the forbidden third floor corridor, Harry sliding his hands into his pockets as he strode shoulder to shoulder with Hermione to her left. "So, do you have a strategy for Pansy?"

"I'm going snap her wand like a twig and punch her in the face repeatedly with my man hands."

Wow, she was really bitter about that. "Well, I'll be there to prevent any cheating."

"Me too, the more witnesses the better, right?" Ron said as he emerged from around the corner as they entered Hogwarts' Trophy Room and joined Hermione at her right.

Harry and Hermione looked to him in surprise. "Ron, you didn't have to," the former said.

"I want to. Besides, I want to know what they're hiding back there."

Harry hummed. "Well, I hadn't even consider that."

Hermione rolled her eyes as they reached the door. "Now, now… it's likely some manner of renovations."

"Renowhat?" Ron asked.

"Renovations, you know, modernizing the building?" Hermione said as they stepped beyond the threshold and into the half-circle of dim light that illuminated the otherwise dark corridor.

Harry was quick realized how odd that sounded. "Hermione, why would they need to close down a part of a magical school to renovate it?"

Hermione stopped, and palmed her face in embarrassment as Harry and Ron shared a light laugh. "Oh, I can't believe I forgot. Someone please kill me now."

The heavy door suddenly slammed shut behind them and when the three whirled around they heard Pansy's voice from the other side. "Gladly, Granger. Colloportus!"

Hermione quickly rushed to the door and grabbed the handle. "Parkinson you twat!"

Harry pulled out his wand. "Don't worry, I've got it." He waved his wand and pointed it at the door. "Alohomora."

The door unlocked with a click, but when Hermione opened it, there was a solid stone wall beyond it instead of the third floor trophy room.

Harry lowered the wand. "Well, that's not right."

Hermione had her wand out and pointed it at the wall. "I've learned a spell for this."

Before she could cast it, however, all three students heard a low, angry growling from behind them. Harry looked back, adjusting his glasses as he peered into the dark. His eyes widened when he saw three sets of glowing eyes glaring at the three students.

Harry lifted his wand aloft. "Lumos…"

A light grew from his wand, before the rest of the room's lighting came to life and revealed the form of the beast.

They were dogs, but their size implied they were gigantic, easily as big as a double decker bus. As they the lights grew brighter and revealed their absurd body plan, Harry remembered _Fantastic Beasts and Where to Find Them._

"Why is there a giant three headed dog in this corridor?" he asked even as he pulled on his gloves.

Barking viciously, the cerberus launched into a full gallop straight for them.

Hermione and Ron promptly panicked as they fled the doorway for the nearest corner of the hallway.

Far more composed, Harry threw knives into the faces and mouths of all three heads, the sting of blessed silver causing the polycephalic dog to rear on its hind legs and howl in pain. Tossing a single knife into the air, Harry caught it as dozens more appeared in the air around him. When he threw the knife, the others followed, embedding themselves into the beast's chest, forelegs, and necks.

"The Church of England sends its regards to your master, hound of Hell," Harry muttered, before the dog slammed its forepaws down and began to tense up. Then, like a shower of steel, the knives dislodged themselves its body and fell to the floor before the bloodied beast lunged for Harry with all three sets of teeth bared.

Harry jumped and kicked off the wall over the dog's heads and ran down its back before springing to the floor. Landing behind it, he turned to face it as it rounded and charged for him. The middle head of the dog attacked, Harry sliding under it and throwing two knives into its neck before rolling out of the way of the paw it attempted to crush his head with.

Getting up, he jumped back from the gnashing jaws of the leftmost head, and dodged them right into a lunge from the middle head. Palming its nose, Harry vaulted over its snout and landed on its crown. Throwing a knife into the dead center of its skull, he only had a moment to reflect on the knife bouncing off before he was tossed off by a rapid shake of its head.

"What the hell do you do to stop this thing?!" Harry asked after he rolled back on the floor. He jumped to avoid the right head's jaws and threw more knives into it, causing it to rear back again. As he hopped back to open the distance between him and the dog, his heel struck against an unexpected ledge, and he fell onto his back atop a wooden trap door.

"What the…?" Harry stopped before looking up at the dog bearing down on him.

"Bloody hell it's going to kill him! And then it's going to kill us!" Ron yelped. "Oh my Go-!"

Hermione, who had managed to calm down from a terrified panic, grabbed him by his collar. "Ron! Ron! Keep calm!"

She looked at the large dog, as it continued to try to get Harry into its belly in as many pieces as possible. "We have to help Harry!"

Ron looked at Hermione, at the dog, and then back at Hermione. "HOW?!"

Hermione looked back at the three headed dog, then back at Ron. "I have a plan, but you have to absolutely trust me."

Hesitant for a moment, Ron took a deep breath and nodded. "Okay. What's your plan?"

Hermione waved her wand and pointed it at the three-headed dog's rightmost head. "Incendio!"

A fireball shot from the tip of her wand, smacked right head of the polycephalic dog and exploded, causing it to howl loudly with pain. All three heads then turned to look at the two of them.

Ron let out a squeal of fear before Hermione grabbed his shoulders and leaned close. "Now we use our legs and run like hell."

The dog, mid-charge, pounced on the two other students, who quickly scrambled out of the way and ran for their lives towards Harry.

"Hermione I thought you had the door!" Harry called.

"I have a better idea!" Hermione shouted as she threw another Incendio at the dog's right head. "Harry! Focus all your attacks on the middle head!"

Harry looked up at the dog, and threw a single knife at its nose, nailing it clean in the right nostril causing it to yelp in pain. Enraged, it only sped up trying to run down Hermione and Ron so it could get to Harry.

Hermione grabbed Ron and dove to the dog's left, its gnashing teeth barely missing her bushy hair as it barreled past for Harry.

Harry waited and rolled under the middle head's lunge. Scrambling underneath its body and back onto its feet, he got up and ran to join Ron and Hermione, who were running towards the blocked door.

"This is bloody mental!" Ron yelped as the beast gained on them.

"It's exciting, though!" Harry replied.

Hermione looked back at the charging dog, then at Ron, before she shoved him to the left and dove to the right.

Stumbling across the floor, and scrambling into a corner, Ron looked up at the dog as it went from a gallop to a slow stalk, glaring at all three of them.

Harry backed against the doorway, and looked over at Hermione. "Okay, now what? We still don't have the firepower to take this thing down."

"You're right, we don't!" Hermione said as the three heads growled loudly.

"Then what do we do?!" Ron yelled, before the dog lunged…

… And fell flat on its chins.

Ron, uncomprehending, stared at the three-headed dog as it lay sprawled out in front of them. "What the…?"

Harry tilted his head. "Okay?"

The dog got back up, snarling. Its left head gashed its teeth at Ron, the right head barked at Hermione, while the middle head growled at Harry. Once again it lunged and fell flat on all three chins. Each head wanting a particular child, but none agreeing on a particular order.

"You were reading Fantastic Beasts and Where to Find Them, weren't you?" Hermione asked Harry. "Like the Runespoor, each head has an independent mind, and when those minds can't agree on something, this happens."

The dog reared up again, the heads shaking out the cobwebs before the left head growled at the right and middle head. The middle head, taking offense, growled loudly back the left, before snapping at it with its teeth. The left head, grossly offended, actually bit the middle head, which was also bitten by the right head and it cascaded magnificently from there, the three headed dog prancing around the broad corridor, its heads locked in combat.

Harry looked to Hermione, and smiled.

"You're going to say: 'You're bloody dangerous, Hermione Granger'," Hermione stated with a smirk.

"You're bloody dangerous, Hermione Granger," Harry said, before he laughed.

At that moment, Harry was bowled over by the stone wall blocking the doorway tumbling onto him as a pile of dust. Through the dust cloud, the towering form Rubeus Hagrid emerged, with umbrella in hand.

"FLUFFY! 'EEL!" the half-giant bellowed, prompting the now-named Fluffy to stop fighting and obediently lay flat before his master.

Hermione, seeing Harry getting up from the pile of dust left by the transformed door, looked to Ron and mouthed "Fluffy?", earning a confused shake of the redhaired boy's head.

"Merlin's balls, if yeh've eaten-" he stopped and looked down at Harry, and then side to side at Hermione and Ron. "You're alive?!"

"Yes, but not for lack of trying on Fluffy's part," Hermione answered.

Hagrid gawked at all three children, and let out a boisterous, relieved laugh. "Not a scratch on yeh!"

He helped Harry up to his feet and dusted him off, as Professor McGonagall and Flich came in next. Seeing the bloodied state of the hellhound, Filch laughed. "I told you the kid could hold his own against your mutt, Rubeus."

"It's a draw, Argus," Hagrid muttered back as McGonagall took over.

"You three! Do you have any idea how many rules you've broken?!" the head of Gryffindor House demanded.

"A fair amount?" Harry asked.

"Yes. One hundred points from Slytherin, fifty points from Ravenclaw, and fifty points from Hufflepuff for these infractions," McGonagall sternly declared.

Harry recoiled some. "A hundred? Why?"

"Because Pansy Parkinson is the reason that you're all out here." McGonagall looked over to Neville, who looked relieved to see the three other students alive, and morose that they were probably going to hate him forever for snitching.

Harry, seeing Neville's look, smiled. "Thanks Neville, we probably wouldn't have made it out if you hadn't gotten help."

"Pansy's shot Slytherin in the foot for the House Cup, so I feel better," Hermione said.

Her expression then darkened as she muttered, "Another sacrifice is required, however…"

Clearly to whatever profane Muggle God she worshipped to have her evil Muggle mental powers, Ron thought.

"Well then off to bed, all of you!" McGonagall barked. "Argus, see Potter to Slytherin, Hagrid, take Wesley to Hufflepuff. I'll see these two to their towers."

"Yeah, of course," Filch said as he prodded Harry with his broom. "On with ye!"

As staff and students went their separate ways, Harry slipped his hands into his pockets and hummed. "Mr. Filch?"

Filch snorted and looked towards Harry. "Yeah, boyo?"

"What is Fluffy supposed to be guarding in there?"

"Yer _mum,_ boyo," Filch hissed.

"... My mum's dead," Harry said slowly.

"I know! So 'e's got an easy job, don't he?" Filch asked.

"... You're an arse," Harry said plainly. Filch huffed. "And that didn't make me less curious about it, either."

"Damn," Filch grumbled. "All right, look… Fluffy ain't the only thing waitin' to spring on whatever goes down that hall. There's a big to-do with wha'ever's up there, but God forbid they tell me what it is. I'm just the hired help, hrff… Ya find out, tell me will ya? I wanna know what's gonna get me killed, or mangled, or me soul ripped out of my chest."

"Will do," Harry replied. "If you die, can I have Mrs. Norris?"

"You already got a pet!" Filch grunted. "She's goin' to my niece!"

"You have a niece?" Harry asked.

"I got lotsa things," Filch ground out. "And she's cute, too, so don't think about makin' any moves on her!"

"I'm eleven," Harry said.

"So? I'm lettin' you know now so ya don't get ideas _later,_ you lousy Potter men are all the same way with women…"

Harry nodded and kept pace with Filch. He actually had something interesting to bring home to Miss Integra this weekend. What on Earth could they be hiding below that trap door?

* * *

><p>"One hundred points! We're one hundred points in the hole and it's only been a week!" Blonde, mashed potatoes-obsessed Slytherin First Year Tracey Davis bemoaned as she, Pansy, and fellow roommate–book-obsessed Slytherin Daphne Greengrass–made their way to breakfast.<p>

"From the sound of it, Potter and the Weasleypuff snuck out to be Granger's partner in the duel and they all got caught by Filch. Every house but Gryffindor lost points," Daphne said without looking up from her own copy of _Fantastic Beasts and Where to Find Them._

"Ugh! We're going to lose the House Cup to Gryffindor because you had to go after a Ravenclaw!" Tracey whined to Pansy.

"Hmph, the Mudblood put her hands on me." Pansy clenched her fists. "She was supposed-"

"To get mauled by a giant three-headed dog."

"Mauled by a giant three-headed dog!" Pansy's eyes flew wide. "Huh?!"

Hermione reached over her shoulder and grabbed her by the collar of her shirt before turning her around to face her. Marching her, she drove her back up against the wall and glared at Pansy as she clenched her free hand into a fist and lifted it.

"My friends and I nearly died you twat!" Hermione hissed at her as she easily held Pansy down despite her resistance.

"You'd save me a lot of trouble if you did," Pansy sneered, "Mudblood."

Pansy shut her eyes and flinched when Hermione cocked back her fist to drive it flat into her nose. However, the blow didn't come.

Opening her eyes, she blinked when she saw that Professor Quirrell was holding Hermione's fist back. The turbaned teacher was looking down upon her with an uncharacteristic gravity in his expression, like he was actually succeeding at being intimidating

"Miss Granger, while other t-teachers will excuse your deplorable, brazen behavior on account of your prodigious intellect, I will not. If I catch wind that you've continued to bully Miss Parkinson, I will give you detention. Do you understand?"

He let go of Hermione's arm, and she lowered her hand. Taking a deep breath, and nodded to Professor Quirrell. "Sorry, Professor Quirrell."

"And to Miss P-Parkinson?" Professor Quirrell suggested.

Hermione looked to Pansy, who was smirking rather proudly that she'd been saved from having her face rearranged in alphabetical order, and released her grip. "I'm sorry, Pansy."

"There we are," Quirrell said, pleased to see the situation resolved. "Now head along to breakfast now, Granger."

Hermione turned and walked away briskly, her hands clenching to fists and shaking as she departed. As Stacey and Daphne continued on without her, leaving Pansy with Quirrell, she turned her head and looked up at him with grateful adoration.

Quirrell smiled coldly down at her, before speaking in a low voice. "You did very well, Pansy."

"Thank you, My Lord," she said softly, eagerly back to him as her eyes glazed.

"Now then," he said in a raspy, powerful voice not quite his. "… There is still much work to be done."

* * *

><p>AN: Shout out to Fandom Flux Podcast because one good plug deserves another.


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